Rewritten fate: The Duchess's last wish

The air crackled with a tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. The crowd, their faces grim and determined, pressed against the barricades, their voices rising in a unified chant:

"Kill the villainess!

Destroy the evil that seeks to harm the child of God!"

The guillotine, its blade gleaming menacingly in the afternoon sun, stood as a stark symbol of their unwavering belief in divine justice.

I sat slumped against the rough stone wall, its jagged surface biting into my back. My bound hands throbbed, the rope cutting into my skin, while my gaze remained fixed on the dirt.

I felt someone's gaze on me, their eyes full of mockery.

"You're such a fool."

"Stop acting like I'm the only one who's dying."

"Why aren't you telling them you've done nothing wrong?" she demanded.

"What's up to you? You're even more foolish than I am," I replied, meeting her gaze, both of us bound in the same position.

"At least I'm not a fool like you, wishing for death," she sneered.

"Stop talking to me and look at the ones you loved," I shot back.

The crowd's chants rang out, growing louder.

"Execute the evil!" "Execute the evil!"

I looked at the people standing a bit farther away from me. The villainess, Lysara Solandris, also glanced up, and I saw father standing tall beside her—Duke Kaelric Solandris—and with him, his son, the Young Duke Tyrian Solandris.

Even in this tense moment, their figures were striking—perfectly beautiful, as though they belonged to a world untouched by suffering. With light golden hair and piercing golden eyes, they seemed almost unreal, like statues carved by a master.

"Father, I need to tell my sisters something," Tyrian spoke, his voice calm yet firm.

"Don't go near them," the Duke replied, his tone sharp.

"Don't worry, Father," Tyrian reassured him, a soft but determined smile on his lips. "I just want to say goodbye to them. They can't hurt me now—look, their hands are tied."

"Fine. But come back quickly."

With those words, Tyrian moved toward us. His graceful figure was almost like a prince in a fairytale as he knelt before the villainess, leaning toward her.

"Get away from me, you bastard," she hissed, a venomous edge to her voice.

"Sister, I just want to tell you something—something you've never known in your entire life,"

Tyrian said, his voice a whisper meant only for her. He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear.

"The truth is... you are the real heir to House Solandris."

Her eyes widened in shock, but he continued, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

"Do you know why Father always made you wear those full-body-covered dresses? It was because you have the fiery mark. And the tea you always drank in the mornings—the one prepared by your beloved maid—was poison, meant to stop your awakening.

After a certain age, if the blessed person dies, their power doesn't simply vanish. Instead, it transfers to the second-born, as though the blessing seeks a new vessel to continue its legacy."

Tyrian's words hit like a thunderclap.

"H-How could you do this to your own sister?"

the villainess whispered, her voice trembling as tears welled up in her golden eyes. Her expression was one of pure devastation, the betrayal cutting deeper than words could ever describe.

Tyrian knelt before her, his face a mixture of sorrow and desperation. "I didn't," he said softly, his voice wavering. "It was our father."

The villainess froze, her hands trembling. The light in her golden eyes dimmed, replaced by a haunting emptiness. For a moment, she seemed too broken to respond, too shattered to even process the truth.

And then Tyrian broke down. His tears fell freely as his voice cracked. "How could you do this to me, Sister? I loved you so much."

I watched the scene unfold, my own voice joining his as I whispered the same words under my breath, perfectly in sync. "How could you do this to me, Sister? I loved you so much."

Because I already knew. I had known all of this from the novel. I had been waiting for this moment, the one where everything would fall apart, just as it was written. The betrayal, the tears, the pain—this was exactly how it was supposed to happen.

I looked at them both, their figures breaking before me, and felt no pity. Only a strange, calm relief. I had waited so long for this. Finally, I could die.

Seeing him crying, the Young Duke Caelan Terravayne ran toward Tyrian, his expression filled with concern. Without hesitation, he picked him up and held him close, his protective instincts radiating. Then, turning toward us, he shot a sharp, angry glare that spoke louder than words before retreating with Tyrian to the other side.

"What a beautiful friendship," I muttered under my breath.

That's what I might have thought—if I didn't already know the truth. But I had read the novel. Even if they were breathtakingly gorgeous and blessed by God, they had broken their sacred oath. Soon, the blessings they so proudly displayed would abandon them, leaving them to a tragic, miserable death.

I remembered it all too well—the revolting details of that BL harem novel. It wasn't just a story of love; it was a haunting tale of manipulation, betrayal, and broken promises.

Finally, the booming voice of the announcer echoed across the square: "Execute the evil!"

The villainess, bound and kneeling, threw her head back and laughed. It wasn't a laugh of fear or madness, but one filled with mockery and disdain. Her voice rang out, dripping with venom.

"The God who blessed you will turn His back on you, just as you turned your backs on your sacred oath. You who call yourselves righteous will perish in despair.

Your beauty, your power, your titles—they will crumble into nothing.

Curse you.

Curse the lies you live by. Curse the God who once blessed you, for even He will abandon you in the end.

Mark my words—you will all die in agony, just as me. But unlike you, I will die with the truth on my lips and vengeance in my heart."

Her laughter lingered in the air, unsettling and sharp, as if she were the one victorious, even in her final moments. And I couldn't help but think—she was right.

With those final words, her head fell, her lifeless body crumpling to the ground. Blood stained the stone beneath her, but I felt no fear, no regret—only a strange, hollow calm.

The executioner moved toward me, the cold blade gleaming under the sun. My time had come.

For the last time, I let my eyes wander over the crowd, searching for him. My heart clenched, hoping against hope that he would appear. But he wasn't there.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I tilted my head back. "Good luck destroying the world... my husband."

And with that, I closed my eyes, welcoming the void.