Chapter 00: (Oneshot)
PERCHED UPON AN IMPOSING dark throne, intricately crafted from shimmering magical crystals, I sat with my legs casually draped over one of the ornate armrests, my back nestled against the other. This magnificent seat, revered as a national treasure, was designed by ancient magicians as a gift to the First King, to possess the ability to nullify any malevolent spell aimed at the monarch, and conjure a powerful barrier of protection against any threat, a special-class artifact of its own league. Yet, here I was, treating it like any other piece of furniture, indulging myself with donuts and caramel tea, far too lost in my sense of comfort while blissfully ignoring the distant clamor of war.
The invading Human Army of the Empire of Elestina was about an hour into their fight against my military forces, their knights clashing fiercely with my inhuman troops of vampires, orcs, and other monsters. But as someone who’s relived the same horrid day, one hundred and thirty-nine times in a row, I’ve already reached the point where I’m too mentally exhausted to care anymore.
Any normal person would’ve considered me utterly heartless. A spoiled princess, lounging in the reception hall, indulging in sweet treats as my loyal subjects lay down their lives trying to protect me and my territory. Initially, I tried to prevent the conflict, but the diplomatic approach ended pretty badly.
All that got me was my heart being brutally impaled by a crazy Elestinian knight, along with my first authentic taste of death since coming to this world.
Honestly, I thought, bringing the porcelain cup to my lips. Maybe it would’ve been better if I’d actually died when that car struck me. What’s the point of being reincarnated into a video game? Why, a villainess? Why not the freakin’ heroine? Those were the questions I found myself swearing and ranting to the heavens about after I saw that the girl standing in my reflection had inky-black locks and a fierce, crimson gaze. I recognised her face all too well, and I dreaded what that meant for me.
I’d been reborn into the world of Midknight Kiss, a role-playing fantasy game that had become a fixture in my life since my middle school days. And unsurprisingly, that was precisely what I’d been playing on my phone when I stupidly crossed the street without paying attention to my surroundings.
As I polished off my dessert, I pulled out my timepiece from the pocket of my Victorian-style dress and checked how many more minutes I had left to relax, despite knowing there’s no way he’d be here.
At least not yet, anyway.
“Lady Mallory,” said a sing-song voice directly above me. That’s not my name. Yet I looked up anyway to see Nimue’s doll-like face, her easygoing smile always made me think everything’s going to be okay, but it’s naturally ill-suited for the situation. In fact, she enjoyed fighting and bloodshed. So that’s definitely why she’s beaming at this moment. “My apologies, my lady, but it appears that a pink-haired rat has made its way in.”
She held up both hands in front of herself, and from thin air, drops of glowing water began to materialise. The drops gravitated towards each other, merging until a sphere floated above her palms. Within the sphere, a pale bluish light, reminiscent of video recordings from my old world appeared, I saw a girl who looked no older than myself and Nimue, cautiously navigating her way through a corridor in real-time. She had waves of bubblegum pink hair and clutched a magical staff capped by an opal-like crystal, suspended within a partial golden ring. Ophelia. The heroine of Midknight Kiss. “She must have used that artificial holy magic of hers to get through the castle’s barrier,” Nimue said. “Shall I kill her, or imprison her?”
I stared at Nimue. In the past, whenever I was faced with these exact words, I’ve always instructed her to capture the heroine, just like the game’s original Lady Mallory had ordered her to do. I never dared request that she kill her. Even though I was trapped in this virtual hell, I wasn’t about to ask for someone’s life to be taken. But I knew Nimue would do it without a second’s hesitation if I asked. She was the villainess’s right-hand, and a combat-loving battle maid after all.
“Even a rat has its uses.” I turned away from the sphere, feigning annoyance. I was essentially repeating the same dialogue I remembered from the game, addressing Nimue as her true master would. “Go. Handle that pest, and toss her in the dungeon when you’re done. Later, I will make her an example of what happens to those who defy House Blackburn.”
Nimue’s deep purple eyes sparkled anew at my command, and they shone even brighter as her face lit up with joy. I had given her the order she desired most, allowing her to engage with the one human she clearly despised to her heart’s content.
“As you wish, my lady,” she said, bobbing a courtesy. A mysterious teal light surrounded her, and I watched as Nimue vanished without a sound or a trace. Though I tried not to show it for fear of behaving differently from Mallory’s usual self, I’m always awestruck by the abilities of her bloodline.
That’s teleportation at its finest.
Somewhere beyond these walls, someone was shouting, “Do not fear! The Goddess of Elestina protects us!” I sighed, knowing this as the same phrase a nameless extra had declared before the hero turned up, signalling the start of the final boss fight. Then slowly, reluctantly, I forced myself to sit upright. I’d set aside my teacup, adjusted the golden crown atop my head, and waited patiently.
When I heard a commotion outside the giant doors of the reception hall, I knew it was him again, and felt exhausted. Maybe this round, I should scale down the window before he breaks in. Would that even work? No, forget it. That guy’s such a persistent bastard. Knowing him, he’ll probably jump out too and chase after me like some madman.
Moments later, as I anticipated, those larger-than-life entrance doors began to be consumed by ice at an unnatural pace until they were completely frozen over and instantly shattered. Before long, frost-laden air started leaking in.
Strikingly, a pair of vibrant blue orbs gazed back at me, coming closer, ever so closer, until the owner of those piercing eyes stepped out of the white fog to reveal himself. This crazy bastard, I thought miserably. Before arriving here, I’d been a huge fan of his since the launch of Midknight Kiss, but the boy who glared at me with such hatred was nothing like the kind and friendly Prince Amon, for whose character merchandise I’d eagerly spent money on. His benevolent side seemed to be a privilege reserved only for humans. As I am currently possessing the Princess of Monsters, he’s essentially become my personal executioner. The same nutcase that killed me over a hundred times!
And what’s worse was that he looked every bit like his game illustrations. He had a soft, beautiful face, silky snow-white hair, and carried a silver longsword that his father, the previous Elestinian King, passed down to him. I knew that he hated monsters more than anyone else, and that it was my, well, the original Mallory’s father who had caused the demise of his family. Those foolish Kings ended up destroying each other over a centuries-long conflict. Even so, as I recalled a young Amon’s tearful words from his childhood backstory during his point-of-view mode announcing that he’d kill every monster in existence, I felt even less hopeful than usual about my chances of survival.
He observed me in silence. “Are you Mallory Blackburn?”
Again. Not my name. “Well, if it isn’t the illegitimate prince,” I said arrogantly. It felt wrong, but I needed to project the villainess’s haughty attitude as best I could. His gaze narrowed intensely on me, and I almost flinched from his animosity. Truth be told, I was actually rather terrified of dying again. Sure, it’d be for the one-hundredth and fortieth time, and I should’ve been used to it by now, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “Finally tired of living, are we?”
What made me egg him on was the knowledge that everything will inevitably reset after I’m killed. That I’d wake up in the morning, tucked under a warm duvet in the princess’s bedchamber, being waited on hand and foot, hours before this awful scenario was set to unfold.
“I heard that you are half human.”
I snorted. It was a proven fact in the game’s lore, but that only applied to the real princess.
“Your point? Power is the only thing that matters in Blackburn.”
I’m practically bluffing. I don’t know how to call forth any magic, and despite being trapped in a body that had an abundance of it since birth, I couldn’t access it. In my previous loops, I’d even spent countless hours in the royal library trying to understand why I couldn’t tap into it, and if I could utilise it to return home.
His lips curled slightly at the corners. There was something unnervingly forced about that perfect smile of his. “I’m glad. That means you’re more monster than you appear.”
I stood up from the throne and walked a few feet away. There was no reason for me to stay seated, clinging to some false hope that it’d protect me. Even in the game, Amon never failed to break through its defenses.
“Spare me the commentary,” I said, contemplating how I’d spend my next chance at life. “If you’ve come to kill me then—”
Amon closed the distance between us in an instant. His face dark and emotionless, his eyes devoid of any light. His sword caught the moonlight, still slick with the blood of other monsters, but the moment it connected with my neck, I felt an electric shock. Something was surging within me. The memories became overwhelming, flooding my mind with visions of my previous life. From my childhood to the moment I was run over. These memories then intertwined with my more recent ones, including my many deaths as the villainess Mallory across different time loops. I felt the blade being pulled away from my neck, the blood dripping from the shallow wound he had inflicted, as I sank to my knees. I raised my hands to my head.
“Claire... Rosenthal...”
I paused, realising that the pain I had experienced earlier was slowly taking a backseat, replaced by a sinking sensation of disbelief. That’s impossible. No one inside this fictional world should’ve known that name.
My true name.
I slowly met his gaze and was baffled to see that confusion etched on Amon’s face, as he, too, struggled to understand what was happening. Did he see my memories? Does he know he isn’t real? Wait, now how am I going to get out of this mess? It was only when he knelt to my level, his sword still in hand but lowered in a way that indicated he didn’t intend to harm me, that I broke free from my thoughts to focus on him. As he studied me, I nearly panicked when his pupils transformed into a brilliant gold. The Eyes of the Emperor. The innate magic of his father’s bloodline, capable of seeing through all lies, even canceling out manipulation-type spells.
“Are you not Princess Mallory?”
“I never claimed that I was.”
“A human, then,” he said, calmly. He wasn’t as menacing as before. Instead, he was actively listening. “Someone who possesses the gift of reincarnation, but from a different world?”
I nearly laughed. “It’s more like a curse.”
