It couldn't be...

Coughs.

"Huh?"

I mumbled, but I didn't hear my voice.

'Whose voice was that?' I wondered, floating in the suffocating darkness that imprisoned me.

I tried to force my eyelids open, but they refused to obey. I willed my hands to move, but it was as if they were weighed down by a truck.

What the hell is happening?

A wave of memories crashed over me, each one more jarring than the last. I had died... murdered by that bastard! But why? Why would anyone want me dead? I had no enemies, hardly any friends.

Why?

And what did he mean by that cryptic nonsense? What was this "circle"? What did I need to finish?

Damn that psychopathic bastard!

Thwack!

A sharp pain sliced through my jaw and reverberated in my skull. "Ahh!" I screamed, yet once again, my voice vanished into silence. With effort, my eyelids finally fluttered open, but the blinding light that assaulted my senses made me recoil. I tried to shield my eyes, but my hands refused to cooperate.

"Hah, ah, hah!" My breaths came in ragged gasps, my body aching all over.

"Finally, I can put this bastard in his place." The words cut through my haze like a blade. As my vision cleared, I found myself gripped by the collar of my shirt, dangling in front of a boy with an innocent face, but his glare was anything but. Messy black hair framed his face, his blood-red eyes glowing with malice, contrasting sharply with the opulent garments he wore.

Who the hell is this? Why is a child beating me up?!

The boy drew back his hand, preparing to strike again. Enraged by the blatant disrespect, I tried to raise my own hand to fend him off. But then—

"Huh?" My voice echoed again, alien and faint, as I caught sight of my small, frail hands. Before I could comprehend, a powerful blow sent me sprawling backward, crashing to the ground, blood spilling from my lips.

"Hah, ha, ha."

"Damian, don't leave too many marks. We don't want her finding out," another boy stepped forward, similarly adorned in lavish attire. His golden blonde hair glinted in the light, and his eyes sparkled with malice.

"Tch... That's what pisses me off even more," Damian spat, yanking me closer, their faces inches apart. "That air of arrogance, like he doesn't know his place."

"…Don't worry. With time, he'll be disowned by Father. I'd like to see his pride then," the blonde boy chuckled, placing a hand on Damian's shoulder. "And the way I see it, she probably won't be coming to see him any longer."

"What?" Damian released his grip, and I slumped to the ground, breathless.

"I doubt any noble house would want their daughter to associate with someone like him. Even the king called off the engagement. What more assurance do you need?" The blonde boy's grin widened with each taunting word.

"You know what? You're actually right." Damian sneered, fixing his gaze on me. "I used to envy you, but now I pity you." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me gasping for breath.

Those faces...

And Damian?

No, it couldn't be...

IT JUST CAN'T BE!

With trembling legs, I forced myself to stand and surveyed my surroundings. I was in a vast room that resembled a training area, cluttered with wooden swords, daggers, shields, and other equipment. At the center loomed a large platform, like an ominous stage set for something dark.

But it was empty…

Except for me…

To my left, a battered punching bag hung, evidence of countless strikes. I glanced down at my own body, covered in scrapes and bruises, my knuckles bloodied.

"Hah," I sighed, still grappling with the absurdity of it all.

What the hell is happening? Is this some twisted nightmare?

"I don't understand a damn thing! Just what the hell is going on?!" My fingers tangled in my hair, panic gnawing at me. Could this be transmigration?

...It has to be.

Does that mean I really died?

Damn it! I was really killed by that godforsaken janitor! What in God's name had I done to deserve this?!

Squeak!

I turned sharply to see a girl with lustrous black hair cascading down her back and eyes as red as Damian's. She bore an unsettling resemblance to him, but her gaze radiated a coldness that chilled me to the bone.

I quickly averted my eyes, instinctively aware that she wasn't pleased.

"Amael," she called, her tone icy as she approached.

Amael?

Is she talking to me?

But…

Why?

Why did her presence instill such terror?

Where had I heard that name before?

Before I could ponder further, she halted before me, her eyes scanning my battered form from head to toe.

"Who did this?" she demanded, disapproval etched in every line of her face.

"...." I remained silent, unsure how to respond. What could I possibly say? Who am I, anyway? I had no idea if she was friend or foe.

The silence stretched between us, but her eyes showed no surprise at my lack of reply.

"…Why?" she muttered, her gaze dropping to the ground.

"…"

"Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep shutting yourself out?! Why won't you talk to me, to anyone?!" Her voice rose, each word laced with hurt, tears streaming down her cheeks.

An unfamiliar ache blossomed in my chest, an emotion I thought long buried. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt the sting of pain.

But still, I couldn't speak…

I could only stare at her.

"Hic… Fine, you want to be alone, then so be it… I won't talk to you anymore… hic… now I guess you can… hic… be happy, you pushed me away just like you did with the others," she sobbed, storming toward the exit.

Why...

Why do I feel this unsettling sense of déjà vu?

My gaze fell to a scatter of empty vials littering the ground when another voice pulled me back to reality. A man in a suit, akin to a butler, approached. "Youn—No, Mr. Amael," he corrected himself, his tone haunting. "As you've been told before, the young lord's coming-of-age ceremony is today. I hope you remain in your chambers without fail." With that, he turned and walked away.

Amael...

Amael?

It couldn't possibly be THAT Amael, right? Right?!

Fuck!

Who am I kidding? With all this evidence, I can't deny it any longer!