Rise of the Unfavored Princess
I had thought that my life couldn't get worse when I walked in on my fiancé cheating on me with my best friend. But after a series of unfortunate events, I opened my eyes in a world that I had only read about in a webnovel, the Erudian Empire, ruled under the domineering, bloody reign of Emperor Helio. The worst part? I'm not even the main character! Reborn as Winter Royberg de la Erudian, I am the pitiful side character who is discovered to be a royal bastard princess due to a certain physical trait only the imperial bloodline possesses. But I know the end of Winter's story and the unwanted royal punching bag is framed as a witch and killed at age 16 on the guillotine due to the scheming of the cruel empress. An aloof, murder happy father? Check. Psycho half-sister? Check. Meddlesome author who wants me to follow the script? Double check! I don't want to die an early death again, so I'm determined not to ever be discovered as a royal again. But before I know it, I'm trapped in a palace of blood and opulence playing tricky games of power, games I have no clue how to win. How will I survive to adulthood in the imperial palace and get my happily ever after? And am I really the only person who fell into this world? *UPDATES 1-2 TIMES A WEEK* *1500 TO 3300 WORDS PER CHAPTER*
Ch. 192: The Carousel of Tribulations
My life is starting to feel like a revolving door of the same old shit.
Just endless courses of trials and tribulations, followed by a light dessert of me getting my lick back before the whole 10-course meal starts again. Near death attempt -> injury -> vague retribution -> more stresses -> rinse and repeat.
If it's not a concussion, it's a broken arm, a twisted ankle, or something along the same vein. Even in the rambunctious youth of my past life, I didn't get hurt this many times. Although now that I think about it, perhaps one good thing has come out of this carousel of tribulations, if I can even call it that.
I've gotten a lot better at dealing with this high-pressure life of mine. When I wake up this morning from a restful night for the first time in forever, I don't feel dread. Maybe it's because for once I'm not the accused, but the accuser. The victim of the entire situation.