I never believed in life after death—until I found myself kneeling before the guillotine.
The sky above the execution square in Xesaros was a heavy, mournful gray, as if wrapped in eternal grief. The winter wind lashed my face mercilessly, yet the true chill wasn't in the air—it was inside me. In that moment, I realized fear wasn't just a feeling… it was alive, coiling around the heart, squeezing it slowly.
My knees pressed against rough, blood-stained wood. I didn't need to look closer to know it was old blood. The scent of iron, sweat, and gunpowder hung thick in the air—oppressive, suffocating.
Chains bound my wrists and ankles. Every slight movement sent metallic echoes through me, a harsh reminder of my grim reality.
I… had been sentenced to die.
"Evelyn von Rosefeld!"
The herald's voice thundered across the packed square. Thousands of eyes fixed on me. Some smiled. Some jeered. Some spat.
"For orchestrating the plot to murder the Crown Prince's fiancée, practicing dark magic, and conspiring against the throne…"
Each accusation hit me like a slap.
"You are hereby sentenced to death by guillotine!"
The crowd erupted.
I searched the throngs without thinking. Was there anyone who doubted? Hesitated? Felt pity?
No one.
Peasants shook their fists. Nobles whispered behind smirks dripping with malice. Even children perched on their parents' shoulders, eager to witness the "villain's end."
Villain.
I laughed inwardly, a dry, humorless sound.
Because I wasn't Evelyn.
I'm Layla. A 21st-century data analyst. A week ago, my life consisted of screens, spreadsheets, boring meetings, and cold coffee at three in the morning.
I remember the last thing I saw in my old world.
A novel on my phone.
"Dragon's Heart."
I was reading about a foolish villainess named Evelyn von Rosefeld, plotting against the pure-hearted heroine, only to end beneath the guillotine in chapter one.
I mocked her back then.
"If I were her… I'd survive easily."
Oh, the irony.
On the high royal balcony, he sat.
Kaian Xesaros.
The Crown Prince.
His hair black as the night before a storm, his golden eyes cold and hollow as coinage without value. He looked at me without hesitation, struggle, or sorrow.
Not because he was cruel.
Because he had already decided my fate.
To him, I was a closed file.
"Prepare yourself."
The executioner whispered behind me. His hands were strong and rough as he gripped my head, pushing it toward the guillotine's wooden frame.
The blade rose above me.
Its edge glimmered in the pale winter sunlight.
I didn't wish for revenge.
I didn't think of justice.
I wanted only one thing:
One more second.
One second… to think of a plan.
One second… to breathe without fear.
One second… to live.
---
[Bing!]
The sound was sharp, mechanical, alien.
Then—everything froze.
The wind stopped.
The cheering ceased.
Even the blade, descending, hung suspended above my neck.
I opened my eyes.
The crowd was frozen like stone statues. Kaian sat motionless. Dust hung suspended in the air.
And before me appeared a translucent blue screen.
[Desperate survival intent detected.]
[Host match: Layla — 99.8%]
[Activating Cursed Grace System.]
I looked around again.
No one moved.
Had I died already?
[Primary objective: Survive execution.]
[Available option: Return to save point — 365 days before death.]
[Cost: Activation of the Seduction Curse.]
"Curse?"
[You will gain power, charm, and access to special missions.]
[But your life depends on Loyalty Points earned from characters harboring negative feelings toward you.]
[Low points = accelerated death.]
[Mission failure = deduction from remaining lifespan.]
A shiver ran down my spine.
A system.
Like a novel.
Like a game.
But with ruthless rules.
"What if I refuse?" I whispered.
[Time will resume. The sentence will be carried out.]
I looked at the blade suspended above me.
Then at the crowd.
Then at Kaian.
One whole year.
A second chance.
Even if it's poisoned.
"I accept."
I didn't hesitate.
I asked for no conditions.
I am a data analyst. I know the value of retries.
[Accepted.]
[Time rewinding…]
The world exploded in white light.
I felt my body tear apart—not in pain, but as if my very essence were being rewritten.
Then—silence.
The metallic stench of blood vanished.
Replaced by the scent of fine incense and dried roses.
I opened my eyes slowly.
An ornate ceiling.
Crimson velvet drapes.
A four-poster bed carved with intricate designs.
I moved quickly, sitting up.
No chains.
No guillotine.
My hands… pale, smooth, adorned with a large ruby ring.
I rushed to the full-length mirror in the corner.
Evelyn von Rosefeld stared back at me.
Purple hair cascading like silk.
Perfectly pale skin.
Cold violet eyes.
Beautiful.
Dangerous.
Despised.
Above my brows, the system interface appeared again:
[Remaining lifespan: 364 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes.]
[Status: Globally hated villainess.]
[Total Loyalty Points: -120]
[Warning: Hatred level high.]
-120?
Negative?
Worse than I expected.
[Next event: In 3 minutes — Crown Prince enters to break engagement due to "alleged poison incident."]
I froze.
This scene.
I remember it well.
In the original novel, Evelyn screamed, cried, humiliated Kaian in front of the servants, and accused Isabella of lying.
Result?
Public disgrace for her family.
Palace protection withdrawn.
Rapid political downfall.
Then… the guillotine.
If that repeated—
[System estimate: Execution likely within 8 months.]
Faster than the first time.
Equation clear.
I need Kaian's protection.
I need to stay close to the center of power.
And I need… to reduce hatred.
Knock.
Three loud knocks, deliberate.
Not real knocks.
A declaration of entrance.
The door swung open violently.
Kaian Xesaros entered.
Taller than I remembered. His presence filled the room effortlessly. His black military uniform fitted perfectly, golden medals gleaming on his chest.
His eyes locked on me immediately.
Like blades.
"Stop pretending to sleep."
His voice hoarse, low, devoid of warmth.
He tossed a leather scroll onto the bed.
"Sign. Leave the palace before I lose my temper."
Engagement termination.
So… nothing had changed.
[Urgent mission!]
[Prevent engagement termination.]
[Suggested approach: Break the wall of coldness.]
[Requirement: Touch the hero's body for 5 continuous seconds.]
[Reward: +7 days life.]
[Failure: -30 days.]
Five seconds?
I looked at him.
The man who sent me to the guillotine.
The man who despised me.
Touching him… wouldn't be easy.
But pride was a luxury I no longer had.
I stepped toward him slowly.
Each step calculated.
Don't rush.
Don't show tension.
He raised an eyebrow, puzzled by my silence.
"Lost your ability to speak at last?"
I reached him.
Then—
Instead of pleading…
I threw myself into his chest.
Wrapped my arms around his waist tightly.
Burying my face in his military jacket.
He stiffened.
I felt his muscles harden like stone.
His hand rose immediately, ready to push me away.
[1…]
"What do you think you're doing?"
[2…]
His voice lower now. More dangerous.
[3…]
My heart pounded, but my voice was steady near his ear.
"If I fall today… you won't live to see tomorrow."
[4…]
Stiffer.
[5…]
[Mission complete.]
[+7 days life.]
But I didn't pull away.
Now comes the dangerous part.
I whispered slowly, as if sharing a secret:
"There's a traitor in your guard. And the sword he carries—Sir Vance behind the door now—is not his usual blade."
Silence.
A heavy second.
Then—
I felt a shiver run through his body.
Not from my touch.
But from the name.
Sir Vance.
The only man he had trusted since childhood.
And at that exact moment—
Heavy footsteps approached the door.
Then a muffled scream in the hallway.
The air between us froze.
And I knew… the gamble had already begun