“Death by suicide this time? How… creative. Perhaps you had faith in my words and believed that you would be brought to life again. Anyhow, you’ve got to go back. So keep trying,” the same voice Abella had heard during her first death spoke to her, and then she felt the familiar sucking feeling that brought her back to when she stood outside the Duke’s study.

“Come in,” his voice was the same. Entering, Abella quickly figured out one thing – it was futile to resist. If she did, she would be kidnapped instead and taken to the Imperial Palace by force, but be watched intensely by maids who served under the Duke. So she complied with the Duke’s command, saying a meek ‘yes’ to everything he said, thinking about how he followed the same monologue he had in the two lives before. Criticism, his demand, and giving her no other option.

And so she went to the Imperial Palace again. Perhaps, she thought, perhaps I’ll make friends and allies before the bullying and criticism begins. So she attended the Ball held by the Imperial family, the very Ball that she had purposefully avoided in her previous two lives, acquainting herself with many powerful noble families and introducing herself as the Crown Prince’s fiancée. Most people didn’t take any interest in her, only the fact that she was the fiancée of the rumoured tyrannic and cruel Crown Prince. After the Ball, Abella was delighted to receive an invitation to a tea party.

On the day of the tea party, Abella arrived in a beautiful off-shoulder dress that was casual yet graceful. She sat down next to the ladies of the highest class – Marquiss Elion’s daughter, Lady Mariam Elion; Duke Snivels’ daughter, Lady Miella Von Snivels; and Grand Duke Randolph’s daughter, Lady Bronwyn Grace Randolph.

“You look absolutely beautiful, Lady Abella.” Lady Mariam commented with a smile.

“Thank you. You also look lovely,” Abella returned with a graceful smile. All her etiquette classes she had taken so meticulously in the past were finally coming to use. “And I must say, pink really is your colour. It matches well with your strawberry-blonde hair.”

“Of course! Every colour is my colour,” Abella didn’t miss the slightly snobby and proud tone in Lady Mariam’s reply, but she ignored it. Noble ladies always had quite a fair amount of pride.

“Yes, without a doubt. But unlike you…” Lady Miella piped up, sending a sly grin towards Lady Jennifer, a baron’s daughter. “…Lady Jennifer’s dress is rather bland.” Lady Miella and Lady Bronwyn snickered. “How disrespectful to wear such a bland and ugly dress after being invited to a prestigious party!”

“I-I-I’m sorry, but th-this is my best d-d-dress…” Lady Jennifer murmured, avoiding the mocking gazes of Lady Miella, Lady Mariam, and Lady Bronwyn. Their gazes made Abella shudder – it reminded her of the way that people had looked at her.

“Oh dear, poverty really is so sad.” Lady Bronwyn said, putting her hand on the side of her face.

“Lady Bronwyn,” Lady Miella put a hand on Lady Bronwyn’s shoulder, cowering behind her. “Do you think that Lady Jennifer’s poorness is infectious?”

“Of course it is,” Lady Mariam snickered. “Don’t you agree, Lady Abella?” All three girls turned to look at Abella, and Lady Jennifer kept staring at her feet. Abella gulped. She knew how this went. It was always the ways of high society – join them, and become one of them, or don’t, and be their next target. I… I refuse to be treated the way I had in my first and second life, Abella decided, making her decision. Feeling slightly sick in the stomach, Abella walked up to Lady Jennifer with the best smirk she could manage and said, “I would lend a dress to you, but I’m afraid it will never come back to me if I do. The poor really do anything they can for money – even something as terrible as stealing.”

“Th-That’s not true!” Lady Jennifer suddenly exclaimed, looking up at Abella and clasping her hands together at her chest, despite shaking. Abella felt it was wrong, but she didn’t have the chance to hesitate before Lady Mariam, Lady Bronwyn, and Lady Miella came up behind her. Lady Jennifer cowered a little, but still insisted, “I have never stolen in my life!”

“That’s exactly what a little thief would say,” Lady Mariam smirked.

“Oh, how terrible!” Lady Bronwyn feigned disbelief. “I should call the guards here to search you! What if she stole a teacup? Each one is a limited edition! We never know what a little sneaky rat might do for money. Guards!”

Lady Jennifer flushed bright red in embarrassment as the guards came and searched her. Soon after, she was found with a teacup in her pocket. She had insisted, “I didn’t steal it!”

Abella glanced back at Lady Miella, who’s grin was far wider than the others. I see, Abella thought with a grim face, she was the one behind it. But Abella didn’t do anything about it. At the next Ball, once again, they bullied Lady Jennifer about her dress, her makeup, how much she ate, how she danced, who she danced with – anything at all, really. As bad as Abella felt about it, she had no choice. She didn’t want to be the bullied outcast again.

And just like that, Abella became a part of the other three ladies, and they were known as a group not to be messed with. Abella poured tea on Lady Jennifer’s dress at one party, then spilled champagne on herself and blamed it on Lady Jennifer at another Ball, and even pushed Lady Jennifer into the lake at a masquerade ball. All under the gaze of Lady Bronwyn, Lady Miella, and Lady Mariam. Each time, she felt incredibly guilty, but that guilt wasn’t as strong as her fear of being outcasted again.

But one day, it went too far. Lady Miella came up with the idea to ruin Baron Elliott, Lady Jennifer’s father’s, business.

Lady Mariam came up with it, and Lady Bronwyn and Lady Miella put it into action. Abella was glad that she wasn’t pulled into their scheme, as she wouldn’t ever want to do something like that. And so, a man of suitable talent was hired to plant bombs in the Elliott mines. However, things didn’t go as planned. Before the bombs were exploded, they were discovered by some workers of the mine, and a person was hired to defuse the bomb before it exploded; thus the plan failed.

Abella was partly relieved that the plan had failed – she didn’t want a good noble man who hadn’t done anything wrong to be ruined, but her relief was short lived when Imperial guards stormed into her room and took her to the dungeon. She had no idea of what had happened, but a few days later, she was taken out to court with magic restraints and guarded by some men with weapons.

“Abella Rose Silverstein, the man you paid to plant a bomb in the Elliott mines has been captured, and has admitted it was you who was the mastermind of it all. This is a serious offence, and even a noble cannot get out of this lightly. We will bring forth the witnesses now.” the judge asked, stone-faced and unrelenting.

Lady Mariam was brought forward out of the crowd, her face stained with tears. Abella felt a sliver of hope – her friends would surely help her. After all, she had done it only for them, so they would surely save her now, right? If Lady Mariam or Lady Miella or Lady Bronwyn came clean to the judge, Abella would be released. The innocent will always be fine. Things will work out – they will protest for me and come clean to the judge. Abella tried to convince herself.

“I-I,” Lady Mariam’s voice was shaking terribly. Abella felt reassured, but that feeling shattered in an instant as Lady Mariam said, “Lady Abella, you were my dear friend! I don’t understand why you would do this! How terrible! I mean, I know you have always disliked Lady Jennifer… but do you really have to go so far as to try and ruin her family’s business? That is far too cruel! How- how could you?”

What? Abella felt a sudden sinking feeling of dread as Lady Mariam looked up at her and smirked slightly. She quickly returned to her sad demeanour and kept sobbing as the judge announced, “your verdict has been decided: Abella Rose Silverstein, you are to be executed three days from now at dawn. Court adjourned.”

Some guards came up behind Abella and grabbed her arms, ready to take her back to her cell. Turning behind her, she yelled out desperately, “please! No! I-It wasn’t me! It was them! They planned this all! Th-They’re lying! Someone, please! Believe me!”

“Believe you? A criminal?” a guard snorted before dragging her off. For three days, she was tortured painfully, and her hands were both cut off. And on the third day, at dawn, she was dragged out from the dungeon, bloody, bruised, and missing her hands, her head forced into the crook of the guillotine. She knew it was useless to protest. No one would believe her. She looked up at the sky one last time, smiling at the irony of it all, and as the sun rose, turning the sky a blood red, the blade fell and Abella turned to the three noble ladies who had betrayed her, yelling, “see you in the past, bitches!”

And then she died for the third time.