After that night, the security around me tightened. Everywhere I went—while eating, walking, reading, even bathing—there was always someone watching. Even as I slept, at least one or two guards remained stationed nearby.
It was suffocating. To the point where death seemed like the kinder option.
Now that I think about it, I was thirteen when I fell into a coma—only to wake up two years later.
Born weak, then struck by an unknown disease that made me bleed from the inside out, I collapsed, slipping into unconsciousness… and woke up in another universe.
Thinking about it now, it's almost laughable.
This place. This kingdom. It won't last long.
If my calculations are correct, in five years—year 746—this kingdom will be engulfed in flames. War will tear it apart.
The greed of men knows no bounds. Not that I'll be around to witness it.
I'm bound to die before then.
Because this world—this reality—was once just a novel I read in my past life. And back then, I thought this world was nothing more than a dream.
______
You've Yet to Kill Me
Genre: Romance, Drama, Action
A tragic tale of a righteous heroine—beautiful, strong, and unyielding as she fought against the evils of the world.
It began with Bolivia Cerevus, the eldest daughter of Count Cerevus. Blessed by the angel Gabriel, she was raised as a knight, admired for both her beauty and virtue.
At Azeleia Academe—named after the Empire's first Empress—the story unfolded.
There, she found herself caught between two powerful men:
The cold, untouchable Young Master of the Le Vorndel Dukedom.
Azrael Le Vorndel. His silver hair gleamed like moonlight, and his sapphire eyes were devoid of warmth. A name whispered in every noblewoman's tea-time gossip.
And the golden prince of the Alistair Kingdom.
Kaian Von Alistair. Hair like sunlight, eyes as red as rubies, and an air of perfection that made hearts tremble.
And then, there was Amelia Le Vorndel—the villainess.
Me.
A foolish girl who desperately sought her brother's attention. A frail thing, constantly sickly, until the truth was revealed.
I was never ill.
My body had simply been rejecting my own mana. It was surging within me, unstable, untamed. The circulation of my mana had gone haywire, something not even the empire's greatest magicians could mend.
And when I awakened… it would be a disaster.
All this time, the villainess that I was—the girl scorned and ridiculed—was the prophecy's long-awaited sorcerer.
The one who wields and controls spirit beings.
After awakening, I used my power to punish those who had wronged me. I let my magic fester in my hatred, fueling my vengeance. I became what they feared—laughing maniacally as I rained destruction upon those who mocked me.
But in the end…
In the end, I was—
With my own flesh and blood—
Impaled by their swords.
My father's blade. My brother's blade.
The kingdom did nothing.
The King watched as if it were some grand spectacle, using my rampage as an excuse to accuse my family of treason. The Le Vorndel Dukedom had hidden the sorcerer, he claimed—for their own gain, for the rebellion to come.
It was a lie.
And yet, internal war broke out.
Spies within our walls orchestrated my father's downfall. Betrayed by his own people, the Duke died a miserable death.
And after the Dukedom's fall, the neighboring empire invaded, justifying their conquest as the "cleansing" foretold in prophecy.
The kingdom crumbled.
At its final hour, the heroine stood at the front lines—her head lifted as the Emperor's blade grazed her throat.
I still remember their words.
"Your kingdom has long fallen, and yet, like the hypocrite you are, you still struggle to fix it."
The heroine, bloodied and broken, did not waver.
"It has not. You've yet to kill me to see this kingdom fall."
And those were her last words.
A tragic ending, wasn't it?
Who even wrote that wretched story? And why—why must I live in it?
The thought of someone dictating my fate made my blood boil.
I tore my gaze away from the outside, locking eyes with the man standing before me.
Azrael.
"I have to leave tomorrow. Do you want me to bring you something when I return?"
I didn't answer. My brush continued gliding across the canvas, the outside view taking shape before me.
Right.
He had been in the barracks when he heard about my recovery.
News traveled fast. Too fast, considering this world had no telephones. He must have rushed here the moment he heard I was awake.
"We've been summoned by the King for an audience regarding your recovery. I was thinking—"
"You talk too much, Azrael."
I was already exhausted with all these eyes on me. Now that I had his attention, I felt as if death would come for me sooner than expected.
Going to the palace would only stir up trouble. That foolish girl in the novel—the past "me"—had fought desperately for her brother's acknowledgment, making reckless choices just to be noticed.
But why?
Why had she been so desperate?
Oh, right.
She was only fifteen.
And I am twenty-three mentally.
---
If my memories were correct, the King would ask me to perform for him at the upcoming ball—a celebration of my recovery and my birthday. That night, I would learn of my brother's unrequited love for Bolivia.
That same night, rumors of my engagement to the Crown Prince would spread.
Not entirely false.
Just another political move. The King's way of ensuring the Dukedom remained under his control.
Baseless accusations of treason had already begun to circulate. They claimed our house was orchestrating a coup.
Ridiculous. The Kingdom and the Dukedom were intertwined. Without us, the empire would crumble.
Tsk.
Why do I even care?
Why should I be the villain?
Why should I be the one to die?
I caught a glimpse of movement—a maid whispering something into Azrael's ear.
He frowned. "I have to go."
I didn't respond.
I simply dipped my brush into paint and continued as if nothing mattered.
But…
What if I died?
Would I wake up back in that world?
The thought amused me. So much so that I found myself laughing.
Before I knew it, I stood.
The maids gasped, rushing forward. But before they could reach me, I hurled my canvas and paints at them.
Chaos erupted.
Their panicked cries echoed as I climbed onto the balustrade. I turned, facing the horrified faces before me.
And there still, by the door, Azrael stood frozen—his eyes wide, his hand reaching for me.
I smiled.
Too far, brother.
Too far for you to reach me.
And as they lunged toward me—
I let myself fall.
Time slowed.
The sky above was endless. Birds soared, their wings slicing through the golden light of the sun.
The wind tangled through my hair, pulling at my dress, weightless—free.
Why…
Why didn't I think of this sooner?