The Empire of Oriantheros
The legend says that the spirit of Orian saved the world from eternal decay. A familiar tale… I've heard it since the moment I woke up here. I thought I'd been reborn into some novel—but reality crushed my expectations. I know nothing of this place.
I wasn't born a princess, nor a heroine… just a nobleman's daughter in the empire of Oriantheros. A cliché story, yet I couldn't find myself in any of its pages.
I was born in the kingdom of Lingway, one of the Four Realms:
Inphara
Lingway
Eirtheon
Talsera
I opened my eyes to a cold palace, between a father as rigid as marble and a mother lost in her tea parties. The only warmth I ever knew came from Mirai, my sister, who once cradled me and whispered my name like a spell.
I grew up as the "model" child—quiet, unobtrusive… until the day my father decided to pluck his two flowers.
"The King is choosing a new concubine… Mirai, you are the candidate. As for you, Leonara, you will wed the newly promoted Colonel who become Serao"
His voice fell like a guillotine. "A letter has arrived. The king seeks a new concubine. Mirai, as the eldest, you are expected to take the position. Leonara, you will be sent as a bride to the Colonel in Larisi—the farthest reaches of the kingdom. You will learn your duties there."
My sister's eyelashes fluttered, the beginnings of despair pooling in her eyes. Tears gathered but never fell as she stared at the ivory marble floor. "As you command—"
My voice cut in, sharp and hurried. "Father!"
Of course, Mirai wouldn't resist. Obedience was woven into our bones like puppets on strings. Mirai rebelled only in her thoughts—like me. She'd hoped to marry a noble, not meet the same fate as her friend… Rayon, who ended horribly as a concubine to one of the Huangzirs.
"With all due respect, Father, I am the better choice! I know the imperial court. I can charm the king, adapt to palace life. Mirai would be useless there—I'm smarter than her. Give me this chance! Please, Father… my talents would be wasted otherwise. Mirai is too fragile. We might lose her in the court."
My words were ice-cold as I clutched the folds of my dress, head bowed. Mirai jerked as if struck, but before she could speak—
Father muttered, "You think so? Very well. But if you fail… you will bear the consequences, Leonara."
His voice was the blade that sealed my fate. Then, cruelly: "Mirai will wed the Colonel instead. A more suitable match, as you said."
—
Mirai slapped me. Her tears burned her cheeks—mine burned from the sting of her palm.
"What have you done?! Volunteering? You think this is a sacrifice?! You'll die there—not metaphorically, literally! When you return home, it'll be in a coffin! And what am I supposed to do then? Blame myself? For letting my little sister—" Her words dissolved into ragged sobs. "You don't understand! You made this decision recklessly!"
"Do you know why I did it?"
I whispered, pressing a hand to my cheek as if hiding a wound that hadn't yet scarred.
"Because if you entered the imperial palace, you'd have shattered—just like your friend. Like Rayon. Both of you share the same pathetic weakness."
Mirai trembled, her fury twisting into something hysterical. "And you think you're stronger? That you'll survive? The palace isn't a library where you can play with words, Leonara! It's a labyrinth of poisoned daggers, and the king—"
But the decision was a drawn sword. Within a week, I was dragged like a chess piece into the palace… where the king waited.
A mysterious young man with smoke-gray eyes, idly flicking a fan as if testing his prey.
"Leonara…" He whispered my name, and I felt my fate become a thread in his hands.
Behind his throne, three shadows lingered:
Velwine, his favored concubine, with silver hair like liquid metal and wide blue eyes like enchanted lakes. "Your Majesty, doesn't the new bride seem… frightened?" Her voice was soft as silk.
Eliria, copper-haired and sharp-featured, stood like a hawk ready to strike. Her green eyes scanned me with mixed curiosity and malice. "Perhaps she needs time to adjust to Your Majesty's company," she purred, dragging gilded nails over her chest.
Serena, the silent one, watched me with deep brown eyes. Her black hair cascaded like a curtain over her slender frame. She didn't speak—but her lips twitched as if stifling a laugh.
The king raised a hand, silencing them. "Enough." Then, to me: "Leonara will be our guest… for a time." The last words hung like an unfinished threat.
Days later…
The palace was a dream slowly curdling into nightmare. I avoided their games, hid in my room, buried myself in ancient manuscripts—pretending to be invisible. But the palace forgets no one.
One night, fleeing to the royal library, I found him.
The king—but not as I knew him. No crown, no embroidered silks. Just a simple linen robe, his black hair tied roughly back, a book in hand. He looked at me not as a ruler to his concubine, but as a wear
y young man burdened by secrets heavier than his crown.
"Running away too, Leonara?" His voice wasn't sharp like a blade now, but rough—like wind through midnight trees.
From that night, we met in secret. He fled his crown; I fled my role. We spoke of books, history, dreams we'd never confess aloud. And one night, between those ancient shelves, I found myself carrying a new secret… a child.
When I told the king, his face shifted—surprise, then an expression I couldn't read. But his smile quieted my doubts. He took my hand, kissed it. I swallowed hard. Betrayal would soon be my closest companion.
Serena, upon learning of my pregnancy, lost her mind. I'd bet she tried to kill my child a dozen times before she was imprisoned. Velwine, oddly, stood by me.
Then came the premature labor. Pain tore through me like paper under a knife. My screams drowned in thunder. When the midwife placed the child in my arms—his tiny body was cold as stone. Pale. No cry, no breath… just wide, lifeless eyes staring up.
The king came. Looked at the dead child, then at me… and left. Not the gaze of a grieving father, but a politician seeing a diplomatic disaster.
That night, I became a ghost in the palace. The king avoided me; servants sidestepped me. Only Velwine still visited, bringing sweet-smelling tea and softer words. "Don't grieve. You'll have another child," she'd say, her blue eyes tracking my trembling hands.
But poison doesn't always kill quickly. My body wilted like winter flowers. Hair fell out, bones jutted under skin, my vision blurred as if underwater.
On the last day, Velwine came as usual—but her smile was different. She sat beside me, toying with a strand of my fallen hair.
"You know, Leonara?" she whispered. "The king knows."
"Knows what?" My voice was a fading echo.
"Knows your child didn't die by accident." A laugh. "It was the tea I sent you during your pregnancy… But who do you think told me to do it?"
I finally understood. Her blue eyes weren't innocent—they were snow hiding corpses until spring.
"Why?" I choked, my blood turning to fire.
"Because the king is a child playing king," she said, wiping a nonexistent tear. "And because Lingway is too strong… We couldn't risk an heir with your blood. Did you think he loved you? This is his favorite game—toying with lives. I just clean up his messes."
I collapsed from the bed, the floor cold beneath me. Velwine loomed like Death herself. "Don't struggle. The poison is kind… You'll only dream now."
Oh, the irony. The fog lifted too late.
My last breath left me.
I died—because of a game between lover and mistress. How pathetic. How shameful.
before....i...Iwent back in time