rueno

She killed on stage… and the curtains never closed.
Lilith never wanted the spotlight. But when a blade found its way into her hand during the academy’s grandest theater performance, and blood painted the stage red, the world saw her for what she truly was.
Or… what they forced her to become.
Now transported into a realm that feels more like a cruel joke than a second chance, Lilith finds herself under the watchful eyes of a cold knight commander and a golden emperor with secrets far darker than their crowns.
In this twisted fantasy where survival is a performance and everyone wears a mask, Lilith must decide:
Will she play the role of a pawn?
Or write her own bloody script?

Upon a corpse, she rose

Hours passed, and I was still there, hanging—trying my best not to fall. My hands had become slippery and weak. With all the strength I had, I pushed the sword deeper into the wall. Then, I lifted myself up and settled on top of the sword. I took my other sword and stabbed it into the wall next to the first, distributing my weight between them. I rubbed my arms, trying to make my muscles relax a bit.

My gaze roamed around, scanning all the small details. Everything was pitch black. It looked like I was sitting on some kind of magic swords that didn't even have blades but still had the ability to fly.

A strong wind hit me, and my balance shifted. I leaned against the wall, my head resting on it. I had become much calmer. The burning in my chest had eased, and I could breathe more easily.

I shut my eyes. Each time I closed them, I saw things I didn't want to see—things I hated with all my heart.

Sounds hissed in my ears. Children's cries mixed with a voice that resembled mine so closely, it might have actually been me. But I had never, in my life, screamed and cried. Not over my dead body.

My eyes snapped open in a heartbeat, caution already creeping in. That was definitely my voice—but how?

I rose slowly, cautious with every movement. Steadily, I stood on my swords. There was nothing unusual. Silence was everywhere. Even the voices in my ears had faded, leaving only a final scream.

I jumped down, grabbing hold of my sword again. But this time was different. I wouldn't try so hard. If I died, my demons would die forever. If they died, people would have more peace—but also more danger.

With a firm grip, I tore the blade free from the wall. I steadied myself—one hand braced against the wall, one foot pressed against it. Then, I pulled the other sword free—and let myself fall into the deep darkness.

I was never a fan of overthinking. It's just a waste of time and energy. What you've done is done. You can't change the past, no matter what happens.

But if it were up to me—if I could return to the past, back when I was still in my mother's womb—I would have stopped myself from being born. Maybe then I could have called myself a human… a pathetic human being.

I opened my arms wide, just as I had done with my legs. My eyes wandered toward the darkness. I no longer knew if my eyes were closed or if it was just too dark. A red dot began to glow in the middle of the black, and I reached my hand toward it.

A jolt of warmth spread through my body. The pain that always returned—the pain I'd felt since I found out I was a quarter demon—was back. The pain in my head and back.

Only this time, it felt like something was tearing through them.

My nails grew longer and turned pitch black.

Chapter 7