The young maid fell to the ground, her frail body crumpling in defeat. Her hands reached toward the people in the opera house as if begging for the mercy that had been denied her. Her voice, hoarse from unspeakable suffering, tore through the silence of the room.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
Her scream echoed with a depth of agony no one could ignore, a sound that seemed to stretch beyond the walls, reaching into the hearts of everyone who heard it. Her body shook violently as her words spilled out, raw and desperate.
"Why? Why was I made to suffer like this?" she cried, her voice cracking with the weight of years of pain.
"What did I do to deserve this fate?"
Tears fell freely, her sobs piercing the still air. The once lively opera house, full of curious faces and eager eyes, now sat in total silence, unable to look away from the nightmare unfolding before them.
"I never asked for this! I never wanted anything more than to survive!" she gasped for breath, as though the air itself was too thick with her grief to take in. "I only wanted to live... to be free from hunger... to see my family safe!"
Her hands trembled as she pushed herself up, her limbs shaking violently as if each movement brought her closer to shattering. She fixed her empty gaze on the audience, and her words grew colder, filled with the icy bitterness of a soul left to rot for too long.
"But I was never allowed to live." She spat the words out, as if they were poison on her tongue. "I was just a thing-something to be used, to be cast aside. Was I meant to be a victim for their pleasure?"
Her chest heaved, each breath a struggle, each inhale a battle against the suffocating reality of her life. Her voice wavered as she continued, her sobs now morphing into words of dark resolve.
"Tell me, tell me why I had to die for his sins! Why did I deserve this torment when I did nothing but obey? Was it my fault I was born into nothing, with no power to fight back?"
Her face twisted with the unbearable pain of betrayal, her hands clutching at her stomach as though she could still feel the phantom child that had once lived within her, stolen away by cruelty.
"I did nothing wrong... Nothing...!" Her voice
cracked, her scream now a choked sob."I didn't deserve this.I didn't deserve to be eaten alive... to be beaten until my child died..."
She pressed a hand to her chest, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. The audience watched in frozen horror as her pain became their own.
"Why? Why was my life worth so little?"
The silence in the room was suffocating, heavy with the weight of her words.
"I will kill that monster."
Her voice was quieter now, but it was a promise-a vow. It cut through the stillness like a blade.
"I will make him pay. I will make them all pay."
And as her final words hung in the air, the light from the lanterns above flickered, casting shadows that seemed to grow longer, darker.
It was no longer a play. It was a warning.
And the Crown Prince, sitting in his seat high above, felt a dark chill slide down his spine. The aide beside him stiffened, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.
The game had changed.
Tears fell from the eyes of so many in the opera house, moved by the rawness of the performance—none knowing that it was not merely acting, but the truth of a woman's suffering laid bare before them.
---
The stage manager's eyes widened in horror as he watched the scene unfold, realizing with a sinking feeling that something was terribly wrong. He rushed to the general director, his voice trembling.
"Those lines weren't in the script. What's happening here?" he asked urgently.
The general director wiped the sweat from his brow, panic creeping into his voice. "Go, quickly—tell the servants to call the knights who are patrolling the area. Now."
The stage manager nodded and rushed off, his heart pounding in his chest as he relayed the command. The general director stood frozen for a moment, staring at the stage in disbelief.
"We have to stop this," the stage manager called out, breathless as he returned. "What if the killer is on the stage?"
The general director looked around, his eyes scanning the crowd of over a thousand people, all unaware of the terror unfolding before them. "Do you think it's that easy? There are too many people here. We can't stop it now. We'll just have to wait until the knights arrive."
The tension hung heavy in the air as the chilling performance continued, the fate of the opera house hanging on the arrival of the knights.
---
The opera house was silent, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows across the faces of the stunned audience. The counting began, slow and deliberate, each number sinking deep into the hearts of those watching.
"One… two… three… four… five… six… seven… eight… nine… ten…"
A dim, blood-red light suddenly flared to life on the stage, casting a sickly glow over the scene. The air grew thick with tension as a man, bound and helpless in a chair, was revealed. His face twisted in terror as he struggled against the ropes, his breath coming in frantic gasps.
"What's happening?!" His voice trembled, panic creeping in as he realized he was trapped. "Why are you doing this to me?!" His desperate screams echoed through the room.
From behind him, a voice—cold and venomous—spoke, sending a chill through his spine. "Did you forget about me?"
He spun around, eyes wide with fear, but saw nothing but the shadows. His breath caught in his throat. "Who… who are you?" His voice faltered, barely above a whisper, as if afraid the darkness itself would consume him.
Then, she stepped into the light—her face twisted into a grotesque grin, her eyes glowing with malevolence. Her laugh rang out, cruel and chilling, as if it were made of broken glass.
"Forgot me, did you?" she hissed, her voice dripping with the poison of years of suffering. "I was always there, lurking in the shadows, watching you. Watching you live your perfect life while I was left in the dark, discarded and forgotten."
Her eyes, filled with malice, locked onto him, and she stepped forward, her movements slow and deliberate, like a predator savoring the moment before it struck. "You had everything—love, happiness, respect—and I had nothing. Do you even remember how you ruined me?" She paused, her voice shaking with fury. "I never forgot you. Never once. And now you will remember me. You will feel the pain of all the years I've spent in torment because of you."
"You thought you could bury me," the woman continued, her tone growing more frenzied with each word. "But you cannot bury the past. It's here. It's real. And now, you will die in the same way I did—broken, abandoned, forgotten. You'll suffer the same fate you gave me."
She bent close to him, her breath hot and rancid against his ear. "I want you to feel it. Every moment. Every pain. Every scar you gave me." Her laughter bubbled up again, low and sickening.
The man gasped, his eyes wild with terror as he tried to scream for mercy, but his mouth was covered by a thick, rough rope. His words became muffled, a useless attempt to beg for his life. His body trembled violently, but it was clear he understood: escape was impossible.
The audience was frozen in place, eyes wide with terror, unable to look away from the unfolding nightmare. It was no longer just a performance—it was real. They were witnessing the horror of someone's soul being ripped apart, the suffering manifesting before them in the form of this woman's unhinged revenge.
The man's eyes bulged with fear, his body wracked with sobs of terror as the woman, her face contorted with a twisted glee, reached for something— her movements were deliberate, slow, as if savoring every second of his fear.
And then, the scream that tore through the air—the man's scream, high-pitched and full of raw terror—cut through the silence. It was a sound of pure anguish, a sound of a man who had lost everything, even his own humanity.
The woman laughed, her voice shrill and maddening. Hahahahahaha! The man's screams echoed, but it wasn't the pain that caused her to laugh. No, it was the moment she removed his mask—the moment his true identity was revealed.
His face was now exposed to the crowd, and she reveled in the horror that flickered across his features. He was no longer the proud, untouchable noble. He was just a man—vulnerable, terrified, and utterly broken.
Her laughter rang out, cruel and triumphant. The mask was gone, and so was the last vestige of his dignity. Hahahahahaha!
Meanwhile, in the opera house, the audience's eyes went wide with shock. The realization dawned on them, and gasps filled the room. The noblemen and commoners alike recognized him instantly.