Soon enough, the music had started and the gossip-loving nobles finally decided to abandon their whispers and rumours to dance with their partners. Abella never liked dancing, but learning how to dance was an important part of her etiquette, and thus she had learnt it anyways. She didn’t really want to dance at the Imperial Ball, especially not for three days in a row, but she knew that the Emperor would want her and the Crown Prince to dance together for appearance sake, and it would be dangerous for Abella to get on the bad side of the Emperor. She wanted to die for once, a peaceful, quick death as painlessly as possible, and getting on the Emperor’s bad side wouldn’t be much help.

The Crown Prince seemed to be thinking the same thing as he bowed and held out a hand to Abella, asking, “Lady Abella, may I have this dance?”

“Yes,” Abella sighed as she took the Crown Prince’s outstretched hand. The Crown Prince led Abella to the dance floor as the music played a waltz, which immediately kindled more whispered rumours. I don’t have much time for this. It’s going to happen soon… I’d better get this over with quickly. Abella thought to herself as she glanced out the window at the night sky. The moon was a beautiful crescent and the stars shone brightly. It was a fitting view for such a grand event.

“You seem to dislike this just as much as I do,” the Crown Prince said, drawing Abella’s attention back to him.

“Of course,” Abella smiled. “I would like to get this over with as soon as possible.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” the Crown Prince replied as he twirled Abella around, making her dress swish around in a pretty swirl. Glancing at the crowd watching her and the Crown Prince on the dance floor, Abella said, “they really have nothing better to do other than whisper about the engagement of two people who have not even reached marriageable age yet, do they?”

“Yes, it seems that way.” The Crown Prince chuckled a little. Abella smiled. From an onlooker’s perspective, it would seem as though the Crown Prince and Abella were whispering sweet things and smiling at each other – exactly what the Emperor wanted. Once the song was over and the crowd was applauding, Abella and the Crown Prince bowed to each other. As Abella lifted her head, she said with a teasing glint in her eyes, “you are a stiff dancer. Perhaps, are you nervous?”

“Not at all,” the Crown Prince snapped, forcing himself not to scowl.

“Well, it does not really matter. Please excuse me now, I have some business I need to attend to,” Abella stood up with a smile and walked away. She didn’t have much time – she had spent longer than she had expected on the dance, and she couldn’t afford to be too late. Her brilliant purple eyes scanned the room until they found a certain waiter in the shadows of a pillar holding a tray of champagne. He glanced around him to make sure that no one was watching before pouring a small amount of suspicious white powder into one. Arsenic, Abella thought to herself.

Reaching into the small secret pocket that she had requested a maid to sew into her dress, she pulled out the vial of blue liquid she had bought the day before and clenched it in her fist, keeping it hidden from people as she made her way over to the waiter. Just as she reached him, he emerged from behind the pillar, standing tall and holding the tray as if he hadn’t just poisoned one of them. Taking a deep breath, Abella approached the waiter, making sure her heels clacked loudly against the smooth marble tiles to assure her presence was known.

“How may I help you, Lady Abella?” The waiter smiled. What a talented intruder, Abella thought to herself, glancing at him. He recognized me right away, and his tone is as respectful as a normal waiter’s should be. He’s pretty good at playing it off… but I won’t be letting him deliver that poison.

Putting on an innocent smile that fooled everyone around her, Abella asked with fake curiosity glinting in her eyes, “what’s that?”

“It is a kind of alcohol, Lady Abella. It is called champagne,” the waiter seemed in a rush to end the conversation. She watched intently as his gaze temporarily flitted to his target before returning to her again. “Now if you will excuse me, I have to—”

“Can I try it?” Abella asked, doe-eyed and curious.

“No, I am afraid you may not drink champagne. You see, My Lady, it is an adult drink that is very bad for little kids such as yourself—” before he could finish, Abella reached out and snatched the very glass he had poisoned, glancing into the drink and swishing it around in her hands. Sudden panic in his eyes, the waiter desperately said, “Lady Abella! Please give that back – young children cannot drink such alcohol!”

Abella glanced up at him through her eyelashes as she put the drink behind her back, popping open the glass vial that was still in her fist. She poured the antidote inside the drink as she stubbornly replied, “I just want to see!”

“You have seen it already, My Lady! Please give it back now,” the waiter was desperate. Quickly, Abella slipped the empty vial back inside her hidden pocket as she brought the drink back and held it out to the waiter.

“Fine, here.” Abella said, putting the drink back on his tray and skipping off. She went to a corner and sat down on a chair there, watching contently as the waiter looked relieved, then proceeded to bring the drink to the Arch Mage. The Arch Mage was the leader of the Magic Tower, the giant Tower that specialized in raising and training children with magical potential and large amounts of magical energy. The Arch Mage had been the one to teach Abella magic in her fifteenth life, which had kindled Abella’s interest in magic overall and led her to continue learning magic for the next few lives afterwards. The Arch Mage had been one of the few people who had stood up for Abella, but unfortunately had been poisoned on the first day of the Imperial Ball by a commoner who snuck in as a waiter. I won’t let that happen this time. Abella watched as the waiter smirked when handing the poisoned drink to the Arch Mage, witnessing the drink being consumed.

The waiter waited a while, and when nothing happened, he frowned. His gaze shifted away from the Arch Mage, full of disappointment, and found Abella’s stare. He attempted to smile, but Abella smirked, and the waiter’s smile dropped completely. Opening her mouth, Abella worded silently, “It. Was. Me.”

Then, she stood up and left the bustling Ballroom, heading out onto an empty terrace. The night was quite cold, but Abella found the breeze cooling rather than chilly. She leaned out over the stone railing, putting her folded arms across the top as the wind picked up, whipping up her hair in a flurry of golden blonde. It was peaceful, out on the terrace. Abella closed her eyes, momentarily enjoying the peace, a smile on her face. How long had it been since she had felt such serenity and peace of mind? How many lives had it been since she wasn’t worried about a gruesome, painful death? As she took in the calmness of the night, Abella almost forgot all the pain she had ever experienced. She almost forgot all the deaths and repetitions of the past she had gone through. She almost forgot the despair she had felt whenever she knew she was going to die again and repeat hell. She almost forgot how tired her soul truly was.