One mont, I'm standing before the ruins of a vast, lifeless castle—its cold stone walls wrapped in frost, towers shattered, archways crumbling, silence pressing down like snow on a grave.
But then—
In the blink of an eye, the world shifts.
The ruins vanish.
And in their place… I see it.
Not the dead husk of a castle, but the castle in its pri.
Alive.
Vibrant.
Radiant.
And damn…
It's breathtaking.
Bathed in golden sunlight, the spires stretch high into a clear, cloudless sky, their polished stone glowing like polished ivory. Stained glass windows sparkle with every color imaginable, catching the light and scattering it in kaleidoscopic beams. Flags flutter proudly from every tower, each embroidered with the crest of the golden sun. Ivy vines wrap around marble columns, not in decay, but green and dotted with colorful flowers, tended and trimd with care.
The air is warm, kissed by a gentle breeze that slls faintly of roses and clean stone.
Not the cold and rotten, suffocating air like before.
And then, I hear it.
Birdsong.
Dozens of lodies interweaving, cheerful and light, carried on the wind. My catgirl ears twitch instinctively, drawn to the symphony all around . Music drifts through the air—soft harp strings, bright flutes, delicate violins—blending with the laughter of people.
Yes, people are everywhere.
Hundreds of people!
The castle grounds are alive.
Scholars in blue robes stroll along the garden paths. Knights in gleaming silver stand at watch. Children are running, giggling along rows of flowering hedges, playing gas. Nobles walk gracefully in pairs and groups, adorned in velvets and silks, their expressions serene and content.
It's… beautiful, truly a dreamlike mont of peace and light.
And then I glance down.
I'm walking.
No… she's walking, the real Felicia.
Dressed in the most beautiful gown I've ever seen.
White as moonlight, flawless and elegant.
It's a short Victorian-style dress, tailored perfectly, the fabric flowing and silken, catching the light like water. Intricate embroidery of golden thread winds through every fold, forming delicate symbols and quiet patterns of status and grace.
The dress moves with her—no, with —like snow caught in a gentle breeze. Each step sends the fabric swaying, soft and elegant, untouched by dust or dirt.
Matching gloves. Satin shoes. Jewelry that glimrs like stardust scattered across porcelain skin.
Out of the hundreds gathered here…
Not a single soul shines as brightly as her, as .
And yet…
Sothing feels off.
What… is going on?
Step… step…
With every footfall Felicia takes, the world begins to change.
First, the music quiets.
Then the birds—once cheerful, lodic—go utterly silent.
A bunny, frozen mid-hop, trembles and dashes into the underbrush as I pass.
Then the crowd.
Conversations die like candles snuffed by wind.
One by one, people stop in their tracks. Their heads lower. Their bodies bow.
Deeply.
"Your Highness…"
"Your Highness…"
"Your Highness…"
The words ripple through the air like a cold tide, soft and reverent… but underneath, there's sothing else.
A chill slithers down my spine.
What… is this?
Am I going crazy?
Because… those people… I can feel them.
Not just see their faces, but sense their emotions. It hits like bitter ash on the tongue, like soone put charcoal into my mouth.
Fear.
Disdain.
Respect—but laced with dread.
Even the strongest among them—knights in polished armor, scholars in their long embroidered robes—avert their eyes, stepping aside like parting waves.
Old and young. Rich and poor.
No one dares speak.
No one dares breathe too loud.
They bow, stiff and low, not out of devotion, but out of obligation.
Out of fear.
….
As I watch the scene unfold before —these bowed heads, these fearful gazes—a heaviness settles in my chest.
So… Felicia was a princess.
But not just any princess.
She was feared. Resented. Watched like a loaded weapon.
All this ti, beneath the glamour of her title… was she this alone?
Is this how they treated her every day?
Cold silence. Distant obedience. Reverence without warmth. Dread without compassion.
No kindness.
No love.
Just isolation—painted gold.
Still…
"Tch," I click my tongue.
And I keep walking.
Yes, they fear . Yes, their eyes brim with judgnt, hatred, whispers left unsaid.
But I don't care.
No—she doesn't care.
The Felicia whose body I now inhabit walks like a storm given human form. Unapologetic. Unyielding. Untouchable.
To her, these people aren't even real.
As long as they keep their heads down and their mouths shut, she lets them exist.
But then—
A ripple of sound.
Murmurs in the crowd. Low voices, hushed whispers—except they're not as quiet as they think they are.
Three girls, standing near the garden's edge, giggling, gossiping, too far behind to see my expression—but not far enough to be safe.
——————————-
"Hey… is she really the cursed princess everyone's been talking about?"
"Y-yeah…"
"But what happened to her?"
"Shhh! Lower your voice!"
"Oh, o-okay…"
"So? What's the story? What exactly is her curse?"
"Ermm... I'm not sure, but my dad said that her soul was corrupted from birth… that she's not even human anymore."
"What? Corrupted?! You an like… she's a demon?"
"Well, not yet. But soon!"
"And you know what else? She's the only daughter of Queen Alicia!"
"Huh? You an the Queen Alicia? The Mad Queen? The one who got r—raped by demons? The one who lost her mind and killed her own brother? And eventually ended her own life?"
"Shhhh! Quiet! If she hears us, we'll die! Literally die!"
"Nah, look at her, she's not even paying us any attention right now."
"Yeah, that bitch thinks she's above us all just because she's a princess? What a fucking joke."
"So… ernn… it's all true? I an… you sure it isn't just baseless rumors, right?"
"Yeah. My father told everything. He's a count, so how can he be wrong? Besides, didn't you see her eyes? They're red, blood red! Like a demon's! Like hell that's not a good enough proof!"
"Y-yeah… so creepy! Those eyes gives chills when I see them... urghhh..."
"But wait! If that's true, then why the fuck is she still a princess?! She's not even the king's daughter! If she's corrupted, then why didn't we kill her already?"
"Yeah, why is that?"
"Isn't it obvious? Because the king loved Queen Alicia too much, that's why! They say she begged him to protect her child before she died… "
"Tch. And he actually agreed?"
"Yeah. Apparently. I also think he was bewitched!"
"Anyways, that princess? Sotis… she goes mad too. So be careful when she's around."
"Wait! Mad? Like… how?"
"You know demons. Bloodthirsty mad, violently mad, losing every sense of reason and will try to kill every living thing! I heard she tried to kill people around her many tis before. The king literally had to lock her in so underground chamber!"
"W-what? Really?!"
"Yeah…."
"Damn... So why the fuck is she even allowed to be here? At our Luminaris academy?!!!"
"I-I don't know! I'm not the King!"
"Tch. I wish that bitch'd just die already—"
———————-
Hearing that...
"Ha… ha…"
A dry chuckle slips from my lips.
Then—
"Ahahahaha…"
It deepens.
It sharpens.
Twists, warps into sothing unhinged.
A sound that doesn't belong in daylight, laugh that scrapes out of my chest like a blade dragged slowly across glass.
A laugh of a psychopath.
My body begins to tremble.
But no, it's not from sha, not from sorrow nor anger nor sadness.
Instead, it's from sothing else entirely.
Sothing far, far more dangerous.
It hums inside , coils beneath my skin, a crackling current of pressure. My veins buzz with it. My heart pounds, faster and faster as the mont goes.
A thrill.
An excitent.
And ecstasy!!!
"Haha... Interesting…." I exhale, still laughing on my own.
Oh… you poor, naive little girls.
Your voices are sweet as sugar—but your words rot like poison fruit.
Curses. Demons. Madness, and fucking Bloodlines.
You speak of demons with such certainty—and yet, knowing exactly who I am, knowing what I am…
You still dared.
You still dared to say that?
To curse your own princess?
To spit on her na like it ans nothing?
To challenge my authority?
Haha…
How interesting!
How fascinating!!!
How… delicious!
And just like that, in that madness trance—
My tongue slides slowly across my lips, savoring the rising tension inside my head like the scent before a storm, like a fruit just about to ripe.
And then—
Without warning, my body moves.
No—vanishes.
A whisper of motion. A gust of shadow.
WOOOSH—!
I'm gone from where I stood.
And just like that, I'm there, standing right in front of them, staring right at them.
"Hiiihhk—!!"
"Y-Y-YOUR HIGHNESS!!"
Seems like the ripple of my sudden arrival has shattered the atmosphere.
Gasps erupt around the courtyard. A dozen heads snap toward . So stagger back. Others freeze, mouths parted, too stunned to scream.
Their faces drain of color, their legs tremble like twigs about to snap.
But those girls?
They still haven't noticed.
Still laughing.
Still whispering.
Still thinking they're safe.
"So…" I murmur, my voice low and silken, dripping with the sweetness of a promised death, "you girls seem to be having a lovely ti huh?"
"Eh???"
One of them—the tall, brown-haired one, probably the ringleader—slowly looks up.
And the instant her eyes et mine—
Her expression shatters.
As if she's staring straight into the eyes of death itself., her jaw quivers, her lips part.
But no sound escapes.
Only fear.
Sweet, delicious fear that slls like heaven.
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