"Noelle Esme del Belmont, daughter of the traitor Lord Belmont, for the crimes of defying imperial authority, endangering the court, corruption, and flaunting of excessive wealth."
"Additionally, she is guilty of conspiracy against the crown, scheming treason, and colluding with foreign enemies."
"Hereby, she is to be executed; death by guillotine. May God have mercy on her soul."
It was the most ridiculous moment of her life.
Noelle knelt on the cold stone floor, her bound hands trembling slightly.
Each sentence struck like a drumbeat against her chest.
Endangering the court? Sure, she might've manipulated the court but it was to maintain the power balance. That was duty.
And since when did nobility became a crime? Is it her fault that she was born into wealth?
If so, then the entire aristocracy should lined up beside her.
But the most laughable charge of all was scheming treason against the empire. The crime of betraying one's kingdom!
A crime she had never even dared to dream of.
How did it come to this? Where did it all go wrong?
It must not hurt his conscience to spout such nonsense..
The anger suffocated her, pressing heavily against her lungs.
Her hands were bound, she wore a tattered dress stained with blood.
Instead of screaming injustice. Noelle looked up at the person above her, who was coldly watching at the end of the courtroom.
Perhaps from the very moment she stepped into this courtroom, everything had all played out according to his scenerio.
The man she once thought she'd spend her life with.
His gaze regarded her with nothing but indifference. Bitterness crept into her chest.
The first thing he did after he sat on the throne was to eliminate Belmont.
Exiling her father, plotting to overthrow the land of Belmont, was she so unbearable?
But when he needed power, he didn't hesitate to crawl at my feet.
He had used her, taken everything she had to offer.
And yet!
The audacity to pin such crime on me, you conscienceless bastard!
The day will come when the past bites back. What was there left to say? Noelle close her eyes.
There was no point in words now. No one could overturn the Emperor's decision.
He was no longer the crown prince who once needed her to reach the throne.
No one would come to save her.
He was the Emperor and she was at the end of her rope.
If she were to go to hell, then he would be bound to the ninth layer, drowning in the weight of his sins.
Ungrateful bastard.
The winds howled as the guillotine fell.
Her end came on a refreshing spring day.
.
.
.
The pages fluttered with the wind, it's ink words swirling as if caught in a spell, closing the book with a final whisper.
The title glowed faintly under the dying sunlight.
The story has reached it's tragic end.
Noelle's life had been perfect from the moment she was born. As the beloved daughter of the Lord of Belmont, she was irreplaceable.
She wielded words like swords and will use any means to get what she wants.
And her lifelong wish was to become the Empress of Valeria.
She did become one, for exactly one week.
Then she was executed.
It was absurdly outrageous.
A mere stroke of ink had dictated her fate from the beginning.
Every moment she had lived, scheme, every victory was nothing more than a painted scene.
A stage for the true protagonist to shine.
All because she was painted the villainess in her story.