2 - Plan
The kerchief, once snow-white, was now ruined with a dark crimson bloom.
The Crown Prince clicked his tongue in mild annoyance and tossed the cloth aside as though it were nothing more than scrap.
"Dispose of him," he ordered calmly.
From the shadows, several knights stepped forward. Unlike the trembling traitor moments ago, they did not shake in the presence of the Empire's future ruler. They bowed deeply, armor clanking in unison.
"Yes, Your Highness."
The hooded man stood to his full height. Even without revealing his face, authority radiated from him like heat from a blazing pyre. He sheathed the black greatsword at his back-its metal so dark it seemed to swallow the torchlight whole.
The dungeon doors creaked open, allowing a streak of moonlight to cut across the stone floor. Beyond the hood was a pair of eyes the color of pure amethyst-cold, calculating, merciless.
"Traitors," he muttered under his breath. "Vermin crawling beneath the Empire's foundation."
The Empire of Clematis was rotting from within.
And he, Zafiel Abaddon Morrigan von Clematis-Crown Prince and the only Sword Saint of the empire-would carve away the decay no matter how much blood it took.
-
Back in the Grand Ducal estate of the Vernon family, Mariana Cherustine Kylin la Vernon was having a very different kind of existential crisis.
She sat cross-legged in the center of her ridiculously massive bed, hair cascading down her back like molten gold. Sunlight filtered through pink gauze curtains, giving her room an almost heavenly glow.
"Okay. Calm down, Mariana. Think."
She pressed her fingers against her temples.
Clematis. Grand Duke of Forebros. Villainess. Crown Prince. Male Lead. Female Lead. Execution.
"Ah." Her face drained of color. She remembered.
In the original novel, The Saintess Who Loved the Tyrant, Mariana Cherustine Kylin la Vernon was the Grand Princess of the Empire-beloved by her father, feared by nobles, and infamous for her arrogance.
She was also the Crown Prince's former fiancée. And eventually-publicly executed.
"WHY IS IT ALWAYS EXECUTION?!" she whisper-screamed into her pillow.
Yes, she was rich. Yes, she had maids. Yes, she had a doting father who would personally spoon-feed her chicken soup. But she also had a death flag the size of a cathedral hanging over her head.
Mariana rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.
"Alright. Timeline check."
In the story, the villainess falls into a pond after throwing a tantrum during a tea party. After that incident, she becomes even more obsessive over the Crown Prince. Which leads to her harassing the Saintess. Which leads to political backlash. Which leads to imprisonment. Which leads to-
"Stop. Stop. STOP."
She sat up abruptly.
"But I don't even like the Crown Prince!"
In her previous life, she had been a broke university student who survived on instant noodles and scholarship grants. She didn't have time for romance-especially not with a tyrannical fictional man who stabbed people in dungeons.
Wait. Her eyes widened.
"He stabbed people in dungeons."
The opening of the novel literally started with the Crown Prince executing a traitor. He was ruthless. Cold. Feared. Women swooned over him because he was "misunderstood."
Mariana flopped back dramatically.
"Absolutely not. I refuse. I will not simp for a walking red flag with a sword.
" She shot upright again, determination blazing in her golden eyes.
"New plan. I will avoid him." Avoid the Crown Prince.
Avoid the Saintess. Avoid the plot. Live luxuriously.
Retire somewhere with money. Adopt cats. Yes. Perfect.
She nodded to herself proudly. A knock sounded at the door.
"Your Highness?" came a gentle voice. "May I enter?"
Ah. Her butler. Dean.
"Come in!"
The elderly man entered with quiet grace, silver hair neatly combed back. His sharp eyes assessed her in an instant. "I am pleased to see Your Highness lively."
Mariana coughed awkwardly. "Of course. I merely slipped into the pond. It wasn't a grand tragedy."
Dean's gaze lingered on her a second too long. In the original story, Dean was loyal-not to her. But to her mother. And eventually-To her brother. Ah. Her brother. The eldest son of the Vernon family. Cold. Distant. Political genius. He never liked the villainess.
Mariana swallowed. "Dean," she began carefully, testing the waters, "has my... fiancé inquired about me?"
The butler's expression remained neutral. "His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince sent word. He is relieved to hear of your recovery."
Mariana's stomach dropped. Sent word. Not visited.
In the novel, this was the first crack in their engagement. He had been busy suppressing rebellion near the northern border. She forced a bright smile. "How thoughtful of him."
Dean bowed slightly. "His Imperial Highness is expected to return to the capital within the week."
Her smile froze. Within the week. Within. The week?!
"Oh?" she replied lightly, while internally combusting. "How... wonderful."
Dean studied her once more. "There will be a welcoming banquet upon his return."
Banquet. Public appearance. Which means-
Dancing. Conversation. Interaction. Plot progression. Mariana felt faint.
"Your Highness?"
She waved him off. "I am fine. Merely... overwhelmed." That, at least, was true.
After Dean excused himself, she collapsed face-first onto her mattress.
"Okay. So avoiding him completely might be impossible." She turned her head to the side, glaring at nothing. "Fine. New strategy."
If avoidance was impossible...
Then she would change her role. The villainess in the novel was possessive, prideful, and constantly clinging to the Crown Prince.
So what if she did the opposite? Be polite. Be distant. Encourage the Saintess romance. Break the engagement peacefully. Secure compensation. Retire rich.
"Yes." She grinned wickedly. "I'll be the most cooperative ex-fiancée this Empire has ever seen."
-
Meanwhile, in the Imperial Palace-
The Crown Prince stood by a towering window overlooking the capital. Clematis sprawled beneath him, grand and glittering in the afternoon sun. A knight approached and knelt.
"Your Highness. The rebellion in the western district has been quelled."
"Casualties?"
"Minimal on our side."
"Good."
Silence settled. Then-
"And the Grand Princess?" he asked.
The knight hesitated only briefly. "She has recovered from her accident."
Zafiel's gaze darkened slightly. "Recovered."
He remembered the last time he saw her. Crying. Clinging. Demanding his attention while the Empire threatened to fracture. He exhaled slowly.
"I will visit the Vernon estate upon my return."
"Yes, Your Highness."
As the knight departed, Zafiel's fingers brushed the hilt of his sword.
The Grand Duke's power was not something to take lightly.
But lately... Mariana had become unpredictable. Emotional. Unstable. If she caused problems at the upcoming banquet-
His eyes turned glacial. He would handle it.
One way or another.
But wait, this author knows something. Something is oozing from his eyes, not annoyance but something far darker and more dangerous.
A smile suddenly crept up his face.
Wait for me, he thought.
-
Back at the Vernon estate, Mariana shivered violently.
"Why do I feel like someone just set a death flag?"
She pulled her blanket tighter around herself.
"Nope. I refuse. I'm rewriting this story."
Outside, the tulips swayed gently in the breeze.
In the distance, beyond mountains and stone walls and political schemes-
A storm was quietly gathering.