Abella, for the ninety-ninth time, stood outside the Duke’s office. She sighed, irritated and exhausted of her previous life. Trying to recall how many lives it had been, Abella began counting and doing some addition, when the number suddenly flashed in her head. Life number ninety-nine. It was her ninety-ninth life already. It had felt as if it were just yesterday that she had died because of that bastard, Riftan, and the rage was still fresh on her heart as she heard the Duke’s voice.

“Come in,” his voice was still the same. His unloving, indifferent yet cold tone the same as Abella remembered. Sighing again, Abella forced herself to open the door and enter.

“Greetings, Father.” Abella curtsied respectfully, all trace of emotion gone from her face.

“Abella, your etiquette is still imperfect. You were always such a slow learner – noble ladies your age already have perfect etiquette, unlike you. But I suppose I should have known that a daughter of a lowly commoner peasant couldn’t possibly be anything even close to a noble. I should punish your nanny and etiquette teacher for teaching you so poorly! How insolent,” he snapped. Abella forced herself not to roll her eyes – same monologue, same harsh tone, same criticism, same lies to bring down her morale.

Her etiquette was perfect – she had spent years on it, and always felt disappointed when her etiquette was mocked. Even in her first life, she had practiced so hard with her tutors and made sure she imitated the perfect noble lady. She knew that her Father was merely a man to pick on the non-existent things that were wrong with her.

“Anyhow, putting etiquette matters aside, I will make this short and get straight to the point; I'm very busy right now." Duke Silverstein paused for a brief moment. "You are to marry the Crown Prince."

Same monologue. Abella was almost bored with the Duke’s words. She had heard it ninety-nine times already, of course.

“Why do you not just speak plainly and tell me what you want directly, Your Grace?” Duke Silverstein visibly flinched. Abella, as far as he knew, had always been a naïve girl dying to please him and never spoke so directly to him, nor questioned him at all. Furthermore, she always called him ‘Father’, and as much as it had displeased him, it still surprised him that Abella had called him ‘Your Grace’. Duke Silverstein quickly regaining his original cold demeanour as Abella spoke again.

“We are blood related – there is no need to speak so discretely.” Abella glanced at the Duke with empty eyes that made him shiver for some reason. Then, she broke out into a bright smile, which startled him. The smile was so convincing – even the light that sparkled in her eyes. Duke Silverstein shook his head – she was still the same ignorant child of a lowly commoner. She would never change; she would always be so desperate to please him. He had almost been fooled for a moment.

“You want me to spy for you on the Crown Prince, do you not?” Abella smiled, her words direct and straightforward.

Duke Silverstein cleared his throat. “Well, yes. It seems that your education is not failing you completely.”

That is probably the closest thing I will ever get to a compliment from the Duke. Abella thought with a faint smile. “Perhaps, perhaps not.” She replied nonchalantly. “May I take my leave now, Your Grace? I have to get ready to leave tomorrow morning at dawn.”

“You may—” The Duke paused. How did she know that it was tomorrow at dawn? How long had she known – a week? A month? He glanced at Abella’s innocent, smiling face, and shook his head. No. She was still an ignorant little girl. There was no chance she knew all this prior – she was not that intelligent. She probably guessed it, the Duke concluded.

“You may take your leave.” He quickly finished. “Now get out. I am a busy man.”

Abella curtsied and left the Duke’s study, arriving back to her room. It was rather amusing seeing how puzzled the Duke looked after realising that Abella knew his intention, then concluding that she probably was still ignorant. Well too bad. I’m not the same naïve girl I once was. Abella smiled softly, the smile not quite reaching her eyes as she looked outside at the setting sun. The sunset brought back bad memories. So many times, she had died at sunset, and so many times, her blood had run as red as the sunset sky. But those memories no longer served as a memory of the pain she went through – it served as a reminder of how fruitless her attempts at life had been.

She remembered how hard she had worked and tried to survive, only to end up dying. She would not have that hope again.

Abella didn’t want to take much. There was nothing that held any memories in her room, except for the last thing her mother left to her – a necklace. But the memories weren’t necessarily good ones. Technically, her mother didn’t leave her the necklace, rather, Abella inherited it, since it was the only possession her mother had. She wouldn’t have left this to me if she knew she was going to die. Abella’s mother had never loved her. If anything, she blamed Abella for losing the Duke’s favour, when really, she never had it in the first place.

Shaking off the bad memories Abella had of her mother, she picked up the necklace and dangled it in her hands.

“I never got rid of this, now did I?” Abella murmured as she stared at the necklace. It was a fairly cheap necklace – something within the price range of a commoner who had a fair job. Though rusting slightly, Abella used to hold it in great significance. Now, she realised how foolish she had been. Suddenly throwing the necklace to the ground, Abella stepped on it and felt it break beneath her.

“It looks far more appealing now,” Abella smiled to herself softly, then turned away from it and closed her small bag. The luggage bag was small and quite old-looking, but Abella didn’t mind. She turned and went to her bed, glancing around at her plain room. It is quite clear that I was never wanted nor loved here. Why did I hold on so desperately to this place?

Because I wanted love, Abella realised. Well, it had been a mistake on her part – a mistake that she would not repeat. Not ever again.

The next morning, Abella was ready to go at dawn. She was waiting outside the gates with her luggage, a thin but warm cloth over her shoulders to keep her warm from the chilly early morning air. She wasn’t particularly cold, but perhaps that was her experiences speaking.

When the carriage was pulled up by one of the Duke’s men, Abella already knew that his surveillance of her had begun. The coachman got off and help the door open for Abella, holding a hand out to help her up. Now they treat me like a real lady? Abella had to stop herself from scoffing. Breezing past the coachman’s outstretched hand, Abella sat down inside the carriage and smiled out to him, “should we set off now?”

A little taken aback, the coachman quickly nodded and scurried to the front of the carriage. Not long after, the little carriage began moving bumpily along the uneven gravel path. Abella knew that as soon as she arrived at the Imperial Palace, the silent war would begin. But Abella no longer cared much for winning that war – she would end up dead anyways.

A couple hours later, Abella arrived at the Imperial Palace. It now looked familiar to her – she had been there so often in her past lives that it was more home to her than the Silverstein Duchy. Multiple servants came and bowed in front of Abella. Abella glanced at them – they all seemed far too prepared for maids of a person who was to come at an unknown time. She narrowed her eyes at them. They were either some of the Empress’s people, or servants of the Emperor. Both the Empress and the Emperor was weary of her, so there was no telling who would be more likely to send servants to spy on her.

“Lady Abella, we will be your maids until you select some ladies-in-waiting.” One of the maids said, still looking down and speaking in a respectful tone. That won’t be happening... I don’t plan to get betrayed by my ladies-in-waiting again.  “The Emperor wishes to speak to you, Lady Abella. Please follow us and we will lead you to His Imperial Majesty.”

“Lead the way,” Abella smiled warmly, the smile not quite reaching her eyes. The maids bowed again and led Abella inside the palace while one took her bag. The Imperial Palace were incredibly complicated, but after having lived in there for over fifty lives, Abella knew it well. Finally, the maids arrived in front of a rather grand door, and Abella recognized it instantly as the door to the throne room. Two of the maids opened the large doors, and one followed closely behind Abella as she went inside.

“Greetings, I humbly greet the Sun and Glory of the Empire, Your Imperial Majesty.” Abella curtsied before the Emperor neatly, her tone respectful and a well-practiced smile on her face as she looked to the ground.

“You may rise, Abella Rose Silverstein.” As Abella rose her head, a glint flitted through her eyes. It all begins now, again, for the ninety-ninth time.