Ophelia Criswell is the name that was given to me upon birth. A regular name, without any particular appeal, however, during my upbringing, I was always considered the cursed child. Inside the Criswells mansion, my life was somewhat similar to an affair, it existed even though everyone tried their hardest to deny it.

This rumor started due to my mother's death at birth which was foretold by a sketchy street fortune teller. "You will die by your own blood within eight full moon's," he stated a week before my mother knew she was one month pregnant.

I grew up to be a quiet child, keeping my nose in the dusty library books and in the breathtaking flowery green garden inside the mansion. During those times, my family members ignored my presence and only a handful of maids helped me in my daily necessities while keeping me in check.

My food consisted of the leftovers from the kitchen and all the money was embezzled by the maids. Even knowing, the Duke didn't solve the matter so I continue to live in the shadows, forgotten in the solitude of silence. 

When my older sister was taking lessons from a Marchioness, I would sit quietly on the other side of the door, in the hopes of being able to learn something. I thought that, if I showed my worth to the Duke he would finally acknowledge me, disregarding the foolish rumors about me being a cursed child. Of course, those were nothing but mere hopes of the purity within a child, a human who didn't even know a warm embrace from her own blood. 

Then, on my 16th birthday, my father, Duke Alvin Criswell, asked for my presence in his study room.

"You're getting married to Duke Wharton's eldest son" he ordered and, as the quiet bird that I am, I obeyed. Since we were officially engaged I moved to my fiancés' mansion and everything was different. The maids tried to help me to the best of their abilities and people would acknowledge my existence, however, it didn't take long for me to realize that this care they were providing me was born out of pity and fear. Terrel Wharton, the first son of the Duke was a sick man, filled with perversion and obsession. Once he laid his eyes on me he fell in "love" and that was my demise.

One night he got drunk and sneaked into my room, abusing me through and through all night long. Afraid that I had become pregnant the wedding was moved up from Frosting* to Seedling* and soon we got married. News of my pregnancy rose but they lasted only for a couple of days since, after a week, I had a miscarriage due to his abuse.

Even though people were nice to me, Terrel Wharton wasn't. During the night he would beat me up while pleasuring himself, in fact, that was one of his fetiches and, when the sky was filled with light, he would pretend as if I was the most precious merchandise a businessman had to offer.  After our first night, the night where he stole my dignity, my body became an eyesore, a blemish, filled with scars, burns, and bruises, however, my face, the beautiful face that he adored, was always spared. A year after the wedding, Duke Wharton suddenly died and Terrel succeded in his stead, disposing of his younger brothers, whom I never met. No one knows how or why they had disappeared but deep down I knew he was the mastermind behind it all. 

I grew tired and ended up trying to run away on a calculated weekend. He had gone to the palace to meet the King but he came back earlier than I expected. He caught me and chained me down in the cellar of the mansion. To be honest, I didn't remember what the sunlight felt like since in that cellar the only thing that embraced me was darkness and, sometimes, the kind fire of a scented candle. 

I started seeing things. Horrible things, in that immense corruption, that even light wouldn't be able to purify. Then I began hearing voices, I couldn't say if they were my own or if they were nothing more than the servants of God, coming to pick up the soul of my undeserving being. Even then, I always clung to the hope that the Duke had received my letters, where I begged for help, to come back home where I belonged but I never got a reply.

On the night of my 18th birthday, I died. I don't know-how but a fire started and soon after, the whole mansion was consumed by the flames. As I burned alive several thoughts of anger and despair ran through my mind.

'Why didn't father come?' I questioned myself over and over again, in a pitiful attempt to justify this emptiness I felt but I always knew, he didn't care, he would never come.

As I realized that I had been nothing more than just a tool I relaxed and was only able to laugh. It didn't matter what I did, I would never be good enough for the Duke since I am just a human to be used by his will. As tears dripped down my face I finally felt relieved, I thought that I would finally be in peace, that I would finally be released from this unceasing pain but that didn't happen.

I woke up in the body of Ophelia Criswell a few days after her birth, a small baby but with the mind of an 18-year-old girl. Somehow I had come back in time and was reliving my life again. 

Confusion ran through my mind for days, if not months but then, as I saw my sister's cold gaze on me for the first time I realized this was neither a dream nor a nightmare, it was just plain inhuman. After some time I was able to adapt to this unsettling situation and, to prevent me from entering a spiral of madness, my brain assumed this was nothing more than a gift from God. 

'You have suffered once, now change your future and live happily' is what I imagined that this ethereal being was saying to me and so I tried to follow my life by those words. 

During my second life, I was different and I kept on holding to a small strand of hope, that things around me could change as well. For years all I did was nothing more than to cleanse my image in the eyes of my family members and all the servants but it was all in vain. They saw me as a pitiful cursed person that was trying to tie them down, the cursed child "that didn't know her place". I managed to avoid the marriage with Terrel Wharton but I still got engaged.

Layton Verne was the middle son of Marquess Vern and, even though we got married, he ended up eloping with the daughter of a merchant, a commoner whom I had never heard of. The Marquess blamed me for his escape, I was confined to my room as punishment and finally, the sharp teeth of the sweet servants appeared, eating my sanity, piece by piece. Once again, on the night of my 18th birthday, an assassin arrived to kill Marquess Verne and his mistress, however, he mistook the room and ended up wounding me instead. He panicked and to cover his tracks he poured oil from a lantern on my body and lit me on fire, while I was still breathing.

Once I woke up in the body of a newborn baby again, I knew this life had not been a gift from God but a blessing from the Devil himself. 

For some reason, I lost the majority of my memories of my 3rd life, however, I still recall that I managed to avoid both marriages and that I trusted a man whose loyalty lied with the Duke. Somehow, I was burned in the middle of the Capital for being a "witch". 

No matter what I did, I would always die on the night of my 18th birthday, engulfed by the flames of Hell as I heard the Devil himself laugh at my misery. It didn't matter how the story played out: if I ran away from home; if I didn't get married; if I tried to take my own life... I would always die being consumed by flames on that dreadful night, not before, not after.

Weirdly enough, in my 9th life, a key factor changed: my mother survived. Through her, I was finally taught basic manners and etiquette, among several other things. For once I felt the warm embrace of someone who really cared about me. In my head, all my lives so far had been nothing more than a mere nightmare and now, I had finally woken up. Once again, my hope was shattered as a couple of days before my birthday I saw my mother's corpse laying on the floor, making all the leftover sanity, reason, and logic within me turn into nothing but pure madness. I never found out who killed her since I was consumed by flames before I was able to confirm my theories.  

I, Ophelia Criswell, the second daughter of Duke Criswell, the Cursed Child among the high nobility, am currently living my 10th life in this unstopping carousel that keeps on rotating in circles. Stuck, within the time frame of a clock that kept on rewinding the time magically just to see my pain and misery.

During my 9th life, I realized something: even though I can change my path, I can't change my outcome. At the same time I don't know if I will ever be reborn again, or even if I will die the same way again, however, one thing I know for certain: I have the knowledge of a 177-year-old lady, harboring a lot of secrets and future insights.

I kept on clinging to my way of living on a tiny strand of hope that this life would be different, that if I was good enough I would be repaid, that if I was kind, a Hero would come and save me just like in all the books mother used to read to me, however, right now, that blind faith that kept me going in a straight, rightful and hopeful life, is gone.

From now on, I won't be the Duke's tool anymore, I will take matters into my own hands and be able to live lustfully until that fearful day arrives. I shall not be a pawn from the chessboard, however, I won't attempt to be the King either since, even though all mighty and powerful, he is still controlled by the chess player and that is the role I want to take for myself.

✽ ✼ ✽ ✼ ✽ ✼ ✽

「 Seedling 」

A big mansion with an even bigger garden showered with the beauty of a thriving Seedling. Walls that have ears and flowers that have mouths, spitting poison to whoever gives the most profit. That is the harsh reality of living in the Duke's estate.

Some days ago I had my 15th birthday filled with loneliness and coldness, just like always. In this life, my mother died when I was born and people continue to view me as a cursed asset that needs to be removed as soon as possible.

Even then, not everything is bad. The past couple of years I lived without raising any flags so no one from my own blood recognizes me as their relative. It is almost as if I am a ghost that wanders throughout the estate, however, that is something extremely beneficial. The more people are forbidden to do something, the more they are curious to do so. If you are not supposed to acknowledge the existence of someone then what will you do? You will follow their moves and stalk them unconsciously.

A quiet little bird, that's what I've been in these past years, but now the coin is about to flip. It's time to set my plan into action: "Live Lustfully Until Death", and, for that, I need to get rid of some hindrances first. 

"Oh my, Ophelia, aren't you too young to be in such a place?" Amanda says mockingly as I find her flirting with one of the butlers in the mansion's library. Her long crimson curly hair fell right on top of her pale and bare shoulders, as her deep, dark blue eyes glared at me with disgust.

"Indeed, I thought I entered the library but I must've gotten the directions wrong since this looks much more like a brothel. Do you know how to solve this situation, my dear elder sister Amanda?" I sarcastically ask as I sit on one of the tables reading a book regarding war techniques. She frowns and pushes the young butler towards the cabinets filled with knowledge right before rushing towards me.

'Always so mature' I think to myself as I flip the pages of the old book.

"What did you say you little wench?!" her screams start to echo and, within the mess, the young butler manages to leave unscattered from her claws.

"Dear Amanda, aren't you afraid you will anger the cursed one?" a greeting with a cold glare is what she receives but, no matter how many opportunities this woman gets, her egoism is bigger than her brains.

"You? You can't do anything bitch. I'm father's favorite and guess what? You will be married soon! Congratulations dear sister," her obnoxious laugh gets louder and louder with each breath she takes.

I'm a patient person. I was always a patient person. I used to be a patient person.

"Shall we find it out then... Amanda?" my hand quickly grabs her right arm and presses it strongly on the dark mahogany table. With the other hand, I grab the letter opener and prick her finger allowing some bright red blood to pour out. "You know how curses begin right? Shall we try to curse you too?" her face turns pale as she yells indiscriminately for help right after seeing my pleasured expression in providing her with pain.

I may be younger but I am still stronger than Amanda in terms of raw force. She is always at home and the only time she does any exercise is to choose what dress to wear to the next ball. I, on the other hand, usually take strolls in the garden and keep on reading heavy books. 

'Pathetic,' I think as the guards open the door and I let her go while maintaining a grin on my pale lips.

"You're insane! I will tell father!" she dashes out the door at an abnormal speed and I sit back down.

'Let the games begin,' I think to myself right before digging into the book once again.

✽ ✼ ✽ ✼ ✽ ✼ ✽

"Ophelia is it true? Did you really try to curse your older sister?" the Duke asks me with his monotone tone. Even though he was in his fifties, he was still a man that held a lot of power inside the Kingdom. His blue eyes were absorbed by two heavy and dark eye bags while his weak dark brown hair fell to his shoulders.

"Dear sister wasn't taught properly Duke, she mistook the sacred library as her chambers. I just reminded her of a lady's etiquette," I politely state as I grab a snack from his desk. His piercing eyes were glaring into mine as I bite the bright red apple in front of him. He grits his teeth in a poor attempt to conceal his rage.

"My sister, you are truly beloved by the Duke and by the young butlers. It is almost as if they are drawn to you, how come that always happens?" after getting closer to her I smile politely. "I wonder how Bradley will feel after knowing of such matters," I whisper soft threats onto her ear, and when I back away I see her complexion turn pale almost as if I had hit the nail on the head. "He is such a benevolent and generous fiancé, I'm sure he will accept you fully, right... Amanda?" a rhetorical question with a sarcastic tone echoes in the room just to be ended by a loud sound.

"Enough! Ophelia Criswell leave this room immediately!" after beating his hand on the hard wooden table the Duke's loud voice is heard. He was standing from being enraged, just like Amanda was a couple of minutes ago.

'The apple doesn't fall far from the tree,' I think as I let out a chuckle. The bright red apple that had several bites is placed on his desk and right before I leave the room I say "See you soon, Duke". The door is closed and, as I walked down the halls I could hear both of them arguing loudly.