I Refuse This Life, Your Highness!

The faint sunlight glinted off the blade of the guillotine.

“Eurain Sierra of Airdren is hereby sentenced to death for the murder of Millen Ayle and the attempted murder of Leia Ayle…”

In the distance, four lifeless bodies swayed gently from the gallows—my mother, father, and two brothers.

The sound of the trapdoors giving way still echoed faintly in my ears.

The cacophony of voices around me felt like a distant murmur, hollow and far away. Yet the sharp crack of the judge’s gavel, declaring my guilt, still thundered in my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my racing heart.

The lover of the Grand Duke, Leia Ayle, had been found dead.

Leia himself had collapsed from shock after nearly being poisoned, bedridden for days.

The incident had taken place within Leia’s chambers at the ducal estate, and the perpetrator was identified within hours.

“This poison is undoubtedly the magic of the Airdren family,” the coroner declared.

The moment those words were spoken, countless accusing eyes turned toward me. All I could do was blink in stunned disbelief. The Airdren family magic—a poison said to be unmatched in lethality—flowed in my very veins.

The Grand Duke was present, his face as blank and impassive as ever, his gaze fixed on me without a shred of emotion. I shook my head dumbly, my feeble denial the only protest I could muster.

I didn’t know what else to do. Who would believe me? Who would listen to someone like me? With evidence so damning, I was a murderer in everyone’s eyes, no matter what I said.

Their accusing stares felt like needles piercing my skin. I didn’t know how my blood had killed Leia’s sibling, nor did I have any way to prove my innocence. Worse still, I lacked the strength to even try.

No one stood by me. Of course, they wouldn’t. I was nothing more than a name—a duchess in title only, ignored and scorned by all. Why would anyone come to my defense?

My family, at least, had believed me. They swore I could never commit such a crime. But their loyalty came at a terrible cost—they were executed for harboring a criminal and breaking their oaths.

Now they were gone. My family was dead, my house was destroyed, not even a single servant remained. And soon, my own neck would fall beneath the guillotine.

The sight of the blade was terrifying. Its sheer weight seemed to embody the finality of death. All I could hope for was that it would sever my head cleanly in one stroke.

I lifted my gaze higher.

A short distance away stood a man as delicate as lace, trembling like a fragile flower in the wind. His face was ghostly pale with fear, and his hands clung to the railing so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

That man—Leia Ayle, a Lamia—was the one I had supposedly tried to kill, the one who had lost his sibling because of me.

A bitter laugh welled up inside me. What a sight. Just look at him. Poor thing. He was trembling—afraid of what, exactly? That I, bound and helpless, might somehow escape and finish him off? Ridiculous. And where was the Grand Duke, the one who should be comforting him in his distress?

Leia Ayle was widely known as the Grand Duke’s lover, while I, his wife in name only, was nothing but an unwanted shadow.

The Grand Duke planned to annul our marriage and formally wed Leia. Forced into marriage by imperial decree, we had never once shared a harmonious moment in our three years together. Neither the Grand Duke nor the people of the ducal estate acknowledged me. After Leia’s arrival, he was treated as the true duchess.

I, a duchess in title only, was said to have been consumed by jealousy. Enraged, I supposedly stormed into Leia’s quarters, killed his sibling first, and then tried to kill him as well.

That was the story everyone believed. A perfect motive, they called it. A crime of passion, they whispered.

And so, my life would end, condemned by a story that wasn’t mine.

“Nonsense.”

I never wanted to be the Grand Duchess in the first place. Our union was nothing more than a political marriage decreed by the Emperor, and the Grand Duke despised me from the very start.

What did it matter to me if he took a lover—or even a new wife? There was no chance, not even in a shattered world, that I would ever stand beside him under such sweet, lofty titles.

If anything, being divorced and returning to my family would have been a blessing. Yes, a blessing—if only it could have saved me from this.

How I wished I could turn back time, to a moment when nothing had happened, when everything was still reversible.

If I could go back, I would have tried to mend things with the Grand Duke, no matter how humiliating it was. I would have begged him to marry Leia, to place all the blame for our divorce on me—anything to save myself and my family from this fate.

Even a disgraceful divorce would have been tolerable if it meant survival. My reputation had long since been reduced to meaningless whispers.

“Look at her eyes.”
“Terrifying, aren’t they?”
“How could someone be so venomous?”
“When’s the execution?”

I was looking at Leia when I heard their murmurs. Leia, too, looked more frightened than before. Was I really that terrifying?

Their choice of the guillotine despite knowing the poison in my veins—it was all for show, an act of bravado to claim they weren’t afraid of me. How laughable.

If they weren’t afraid, why did they all stand so far away?

Should I just kill them all?

The thought leapt to the forefront of my mind, dangerous and wild. Only now did I realize that despair, when pushed far enough, could twist itself into murderous rage.

The glinting eyes staring up at me on the scaffold.

Leia, trembling like a fragile leaf.

And… my gaze shifted. Standing to the side of the guillotine was a man.

Tall, well-dressed, and seemingly poised, yet his face betrayed the cunning cruelty of a snake.

That man was Erma, the steward of the ducal estate—the one who had tormented me and ultimately ensured I was sent to this execution.

Despite my title as Grand Duchess, I had never once dared defy Erma. Rank, as it turned out, was powerless. A Grand Duchess ignored and unloved by her husband was nothing more than a plaything for those beneath her.

But now I had reached the end of the line. Even a cornered mouse would bite a cat. Perhaps, on this final path, I would become that mouse.

Should I show them all how much strength I truly possessed?

A strength I had never once dared to use, rendering it as good as nonexistent. The power to annihilate everyone here—my blood, a living weapon, was the magic of Airdren. It had terrified me my entire life, as though I carried a powder keg ready to ignite at the slightest spark.

With my family dead and nothing left to lose, what did I have to fear?

I could destroy every single one of them, every person I could see…

“…”

The ragged ends of my hair, uneven and tangled, floated lightly in the wind before settling. Kill them all?

What would be the point?

Even if I killed them, my family wouldn’t return. I would simply become a greater monster, forced to kill until I had exhausted myself completely. Would such a life be worth living?

Besides, I wasn’t sure I could kill the Grand Duke.

He was terrifyingly strong, a war hero, and the greatest swordsman in the Empire.

I had no confidence I could defeat him.

No… it wasn’t just a lack of strength. The greater truth was that I…

Anger surged through me, wild and overwhelming.

Why had I allowed myself to feel this way about him?

Why?

Rage burned within me, not directed at anyone in particular but scattering aimlessly like oil slicks on water, sticky and futile. I wanted to scream.

Still, the Grand Duke was nowhere to be seen.

Where was he? What was he doing? Why had he reduced me to this state? What made Leia so different from me?

The flames in my chest roared to life, threatening to spill out of my throat. Their name was pain.

I let my head drop. The weight of humiliation crushed me.

When my blood, laced with magic, splattered across the scene, I didn’t want to see the Grand Duke shielding Leia from the chaos. I didn’t want to witness that moment.

It was as torturous as the suffering I had already endured.

This is too much.

I was exhausted—physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. Maybe… maybe it would be better to let it all end here.

Regret, longing—none of it mattered anymore. It was all too late. Whether I carried shame, disgrace, or a clean conscience, death would erase it all.

I glanced at Erma one last time. A faint, cruel smile tugged at his lips.

Silently, he mouthed the words:
“See? You should have obeyed.”

Even at the end, he remained a wretched man. I turned away, refusing to acknowledge him any longer.

“Your Grace,” he called, mocking me with the title he never truly meant. I didn’t respond.

Was it my imagination, or did I catch a flicker of unease in his demeanor? Unease? From him? Surely, that couldn’t be right. It had to be a trick of my exhausted mind.

“Why hasn’t His Grace, the Grand Duke, arrived?” he pressed.

I couldn’t help but scoff at the absurdity of his question. How would I know? If he was so curious, he should ask Leia.

“Proceed with the execution!”

The executioner’s voice thundered through the air. Erma faltered, hesitated for a brief moment, and then darted toward the executioner as if to intervene.

And then—

“Stop!”

A desperate voice cut through the chaos.

It was familiar. I recognized it instantly.

Everything seemed to slow. Despite the order to halt, the blade had already fallen. The sound it made was chilling, final, and unlike anything I had ever heard before. My head tumbled into the waiting basket.

A horrifying truth I hadn’t wanted to know—consciousness lingers briefly after decapitation.

The one who had shouted was the Grand Duke.

Why was he here?

I wanted to turn my eyes to Leia, to see his reaction, but my vision no longer obeyed me.

Through the fog clouding my sight, I saw the Grand Duke kneeling in front of the basket. He reached out, gently cradling my severed head in his hands.

His expression was unclear, but his lips moved faintly.

“No…”

What could he possibly mean by that?

That was the last thing I remembered.

The chirping of birds stirred me awake.

I opened my eyes, sunlight streaming in through sheer chiffon curtains. The brightness stung, and I rubbed my eyes instinctively—but something felt off.

The Grand Duchess’s chambers never allowed sunlight in.

How long had it been since I last woke up bathed in sunlight? Probably not since the first days after arriving in the Grand Duchy of Isser.

Then… what was this sunlight?

Was I no longer in the Grand Duchess’s room?

“…What?”

My hazy mind soon stumbled upon a far more pressing realization.

I… died, didn’t I?

The vivid sensation of my neck being severed lingered as if it had just happened. My hands instinctively flew to my throat, frantically tracing it. My neck was whole—completely intact. No scars, no seams. Nothing to suggest the brutal execution I remembered so clearly.

And yet… I was here.

A sudden knock at the door shattered my thoughts. Startled, I yanked the blanket over my head. No one who came to my chambers ever brought good news.

The door creaked open, as if the visitor had every right to enter. My body trembled beneath the covers, heart racing.

“Master?”

…Master?

The trembling stopped. That voice—it was unmistakably familiar.

I threw off the blanket without thinking.

“How can you still be sleeping? Come on, get up, sleepyhead!”

Standing before me was a boy with light brown hair and a smattering of freckles across his face. I blinked, struggling to believe my eyes.

“…Lis?”

“Yes, it’s me, Lis.”

Lis was dead. I’d watched him die with my own eyes. When my family was dragged from the estate, every servant and attendant had been slaughtered. Lis had tried to protect me, stepping between me and my captors, only to collapse in a spray of blood. He’d died right there, at my feet.

So what was this? A dream? A fleeting vision? The final sparks of a dying consciousness?

“You still look half-asleep. Should I bring you some tea?”

I stared at Lis, speechless.

Why… why was I in Airdren?