"Kill her! Kill the witch!"

The furious roars of the crowd was so loudly that I couldn’t hear, ominous clanking of the guillotine gears. I knelt beneath the looming shadow of the cold iron blade, my body worn out, bloodied, and broken. My armor had been stripped away, replaced by a tattered, dirty smock.

The very people I had spent five agonizing years bleeding for on the frozen battlefields were now spitting at me, throwing stones that sliced fresh wounds into my skin.

"I didn't kill my father!" I screamed, but the desperation in my voice was swallowed by the crowd's toxic hatred.

"To think she slaughtered our Great Emperor the very night she returned from the war!" a nobleman jeered from the front rows. "She is a cold-blooded monster! She deserves worse than a quick death! Cut her head off!"

I would never... Please, God, someone believe me!

I looked through the sea of twisted, mocking faces. Not a single person looked at me with pity. No one believed me. Not a soul. As the executioner roughly forced my neck into the wooden stock, the sheer injustice of my fate sent my mind spiraling back to how beautifully, how foolishly, it had all started five years ago inside the grand Imperial Assembly.

Back then, I was the pride of the Empire. When the hostile Dawn Empire sent a strategic marriage proposal to settle our bloody border disputes, the cowardly ministers wanted to accept it, eager to use me as a political bartering chip. But my pride as a elite warrior wouldn't allow me to bow down.

 I had knelt proudly before my father, the Emperor, and begged him: 'Command me, and I will march to the front lines and return with absolute victory.' He had laughed his proud laugh, sending me off with his personal blessing while the citizens lined the streets, cheering my name. Little girls waved at me through the crowds, shouting that they wanted to grow up to be just like the brave Princess Charlotte.

I spent five brutal, sleepless years in the mud and snow, swinging my sword until my calloused hands bled, all to protect their smiles. When the war was finally won, I returned to a quiet cold capital. No banners. No cheers. My vice-captain, Calix, had gripped his reins in anger, muttering about the lack of a hero's welcome. I had gently stopped him, whispering: 'It's okay, Calix. I didn't swing my sword to receive cheers or medals. I did it solely for the survival of our kingdom.'

I had no idea that my blind loyalty was actually writing my own death warrant.

That very night, the palace turned into a nightmare. My treacherous stepmother, the Empress, burst into my chambers backed by the entire Imperial Guard, loudly accusing me of poisoning my father. To ensure I couldn't fight back, she dragged my terrified, ten-year-old younger brother into the room. I thrashed wildly against the guards holding me down, screaming for them to leave his innocent hands off him. But she didn't hesitate. With a chilling smirk, she ordered his immediate execution. They cut my little brother's throat right in front of my eyes, his warm blood splashing across my face as his limp body hit the floor.

 Now, trapped beneath the heavy wood of the guillotine, my eyes locked onto the Empress. She stood high up on the royal viewing platform, elegantly sipping wine, watching my misery like a form of entertainment.

"Mother... you have to believe me," I wept, the tears mixing with the dried blood on my cheeks. "Why are you doing this to us?"

She stepped closer to the gilded railing, leaning down to lower her voice so only my ringing ears could catch her words. "You should have just accepted the marriage proposal back then, Charlotte. If you had gone quietly, I wouldn't have been forced to poison your father to clear the path for my own blood."

My pupils dilated in sheer, suffocating horror. It was her... she murdered Father...

"The Emperor had foolishly started to think you deserved the crown over my son," the Empress whispered, her eyes flashing with a sickening malice. "Did you really think my boy deserved to take second place to a warrior wrench? You and your pathetic brother were like a noose tied around my neck. And today, I finally cut it."

She pulled back, her face transformed back into a flawless mask of grief-stricken, righteous fury. "Execute the regicide witch!"

As the executioner's hand gripped the heavy iron lever, a profound, bitter of regret filled my very soul. My suffocating pride had murdered my father. My arrogance had destroyed my innocent brother. My blind heroism had ruined everything I loved.

If... if I am ever given a second chance, I swore fiercely, staring at the sky through a veil of tears, I swear to God I will never choose the same path. I will destroy you all.

With a sickening, metallic screech, the heavy guillotine blade dropped. It met the base of the wooden frame with a brutal, final thud, separating my life from the world.

I gasped, bolting upright in bed with a blood-curdling, desperate scream.

My chest heaved violently as I clawed at the air, my lungs burning as if I were still drowning in my own blood. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped, dying bird.

What... what is this? Where am I?

Trembling uncontrollably, my hands flew straight to my throat, desperately feeling for the gaping wound, searching for the severed flesh. Why am I still alive? How is this possible? Even now, the phantom sensation of the icy iron blade slicing through my neck was so real, a lingering, burning agony that made my vision blur.

"How am I breathing...?" I whispered, staring down at my hands. They weren't covered in battlefield scars or prison filth. They were soft, pale, and completely flawless.

Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the bedroom burst open. My personal maid stepped inside, bowing elegantly with a familiar, calm demeanor.

"Princess, Your Majesty is calling for your presence. The Imperial Assembly is about to begin."

Your Majesty? My breath completely hitched in my throat. Father? Is he... is he still alive?

My wide, trembling gaze locked onto the maid's face. It was the exact same morning gown, the exact same words Liza had spoken to me five years ago.

A realization struck me like a bolt of lightning, sending a violent chill down my spine.

I haven't gone to hell. I have returned. I have been dragged back five years into the past to the exact, fateful day the marriage proposal from the Dawn Empire arrives.

This is my second chance.