Source of this article: MoeomuBlog
Background
This is a slightly darker plot, a revenge story and a tragedy at the same time, so let me know if you don’t like it, please!
In the past ten years, a foreign general and I were entangled in a tumultuous love-hate relationship. Ten years ago, he killed all my loved ones, leaving me devastated. And now, after a decade of planning, I have brought destruction upon his kingdom. With the cloud-shaped dagger he had once given me, I plunged it into his heart.
Ten years ago
The general stood tall, accompanied by his colossal giant guardians, resembling mountains of steel. They wielded their dual hammers, mercilessly destroying my homeland. I will forever remember the image of my grandfather, torn apart and lifeless, his body mangled, and his eyes filled with despair. Trembling with fear, I hid behind a massive rock, praying not to be discovered. Unfortunately, I, along with a few survivors, were captured and taken to prison. On our way, a tightly wrapped officer thoroughly searched every pocket. The general had triumphed in this battle. The seed of hatred sprouted within me as I stared fiercely at him, inspecting the spoils of war in the prison. His eyes were as cold and merciless as a sharpened blade, his demeanor as frigid as an ancient iceberg. He did not see me; his gaze was consumed by thoughts of war and glory.
I began plotting my escape. While discussing with my fellow inmates how to break free, one of them mentioned having a small knife that could cut through the somewhat unreliable locks. However, she underestimated the resilience of these seemingly simple locks. After several attempts, we gave up. Feeling lost, I absentmindedly reached into my pocket and discovered an Ender Pearl. Though unsure of its purpose, I knew it had the power of teleportation. Without hesitation, I flung it towards the iron bars, and as expected, after a moment of dizziness, I found myself outside the prison walls.
Spanning the decade
Covered in dirt and grime, I was taken in by a kind-hearted family, finally finding a home once again. Unfortunately, the fleeting moments of happiness were cut short as we were separated during the chaotic times of war and displacement. To survive, I resorted to singing in small taverns, scraping by on meager earnings. Luckily, I caught the attention of the royal court’s musical ensemble, who were conducting a civilian talent show on the streets in order to unite the people. And so, I became a member of the royal song and dance troupe.
Over the years, I gradually learned the art of singing and dancing. The sudden leap in social status was difficult to adjust to, but it also provided me with the opportunity to engage in other activities. I learned how to charm the nobles, using my eyes to captivate them, every smile and gesture stirring their hearts and desires. In addition, I spent my remaining time assisting at the monastery, forming a close bond with the nuns and gaining the chance to study medicine. The nuns warned me to be cautious in my actions, to let kindness guide me, as any misstep could invite plague, a divine punishment, a devastating calamity.
As fate would have it, the general, at the request of the royal family, arrived at the palace to witness the court’s performances. His countenance remained stern, his deep blue eyes as captivating as the boundless sky. On that night, as I danced with grace and sang with beauty, his gaze seemed to soften, filled with tenderness. From that day forward, he sought me out in private, but I refused his advances for various reasons, resorting to exchanging letters instead.
His desire to see me grew stronger, leading him to invite the royal court to his ducal estate. Naturally, the royal orchestra accompanied them to liven up the occasion. As the night drew to a close, I found myself intercepted by guards on the way, escorted to the general’s private reception room. When he saw me enter, his sharp eyebrows softened, his deep indigo eyes brimming with affection. He looked at me and said, “Why have you been avoiding me? What worries you?” I immediately feigned a distressed expression and replied, “I’m truly afraid.” Gently, he pulled me into his arms, and I offered no resistance. “Afraid of me?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied. “And now?” he inquired. “Not as much anymore.” I gazed into his captivating eyes, and he tenderly kissed my forehead.
Our clandestine relationship grew stronger, our meetings more frequent. I could see the fiery desire in his eyes, burning brighter with each encounter. Soon, I would have my revenge. In my mind, I silently compared various methods of murder I had accumulated over the years, ultimately deciding on poisoning him. Referring to the records in the monastery’s library, I chose to extract KCN, a highly toxic substance, from a pigment known as Prussian Blue. I learned some basic chemistry from the nuns and, under the pretense of wanting to paint, playfully requested a large quantity of paint from the general. Back at home, following the instructions from the books, I carefully extracted a small amount of KCN, sealed it securely, and pondered its potential use in the future.
As time went by, our repeated dates made us the most familiar people to each other, apart from my childhood memories. He held me close as we admired the flowers under the night sky, seeming slightly intoxicated. “Am I more beautiful, or are the flowers?” I asked playfully. “Your smile is more beautiful than roses, and your eyes are like a deep blue ocean. Every time our gazes meet, I can’t look away. You are my most beautiful garden,” he tenderly expressed, captivating me with his words. In that moment, I fantasized about how happy we could have been if I didn’t carry the burden of hatred. Although this man’s heart was hard to fathom, sometimes appearing slightly indifferent, while other times being passionately fiery.
He invited me on another outing, presenting a rectangular mahogany box. The delicate carvings and golden exterior made it look like an unparalleled work of art. I opened the box with surprise, revealing an exquisite dagger. The ivory handle gleamed, adorned with silver threads and gemstones, resembling elegant wisps of clouds, exuding an extraordinary elegance. “I don’t need this, take it back,” I said, feeling a surge of anger upon seeing the gift. How typical of a straight-laced man, truly befitting a duke general. “This is a token of our love, I love you, and I really want to marry you,” he spoke with a hint of urgency in his tone. “My position can only allow me to be your mistress. That’s the only way I can agree.” I replied with a smile. He seemed slightly embarrassed, a expression I had never seen on his face before. He continued, “I discussed it with my family, they won’t support it, but I can disregard my reputation and interests.” I caressed his face and asked, “Is it worth it for me?” Then, I immediately kissed him, not allowing him to say anything further.
As I looked at the token of love he had given me, I also saw the sincerity and tenderness in his eyes. In that moment, I had to admit to myself that my feelings for him had become twisted over the years. In his room, he showed me many of his diaries. He was someone who enjoyed drinking tea, and in the days that followed, I searched far and wide for authentic Eastern teas, carefully packaging them as exquisite gifts for him. He seemed to always complain that I wouldn’t let him into my heart.
Now
I had someone purchase a batch of rats locally and injected them with rat blood infected with a distant plague. I knew they would suffer, just like me. I murmured to one of the little cuties, “We’re really the same, aren’t we? We’re all the same. Just endure a little longer, it will all be over soon.” Standing at the entrance of my secret underground laboratory, I looked at the footprints on the lab floor and realized that someone had seemingly entered. But it didn’t matter anymore. Whoever it was, it was irrelevant. The rats had all been released, and the outcome was already predetermined.
On our final date, while he was away greeting important guests, I took out the white solid substance I had prepared. As I was about to pour it in, I hesitated. Complex emotions flooded my mind. Him and my happiness, our relationship, and the world, none of it mattered anymore. I made up my mind for revenge. I placed the white substance into the cup he often used for tea, and it dissolved instantly, leaving a hint of bitter almond taste mixed with the aroma of the tea, hoping he wouldn’t notice. After doing everything, I fell to the ground, overcome by tears streaming down my face.
When he returned, I had already composed myself. He gently held me in his arms as he sat down, then picked up the cup of tea and savored the aroma as usual before drinking it all in one gulp. Suddenly, he was wracked with unbearable stomach pain and released me, urging me to call a doctor. In one swift motion, I reached behind me and plunged the dagger of love, which I always carried, into his heart. He looked at me with a mix of shock, confusion, and pain, as if he had finally remembered something. With his last bit of strength, he managed to say two words, “The pocket.” I rolled my eyes at him. My dress didn’t have any pockets. Suddenly, the scene before me shifted, and I was engulfed in memories. I recalled the prison where I was once held captive, instinctively reaching into my pocket and finding the Ender Pearl that had once saved me. I also remembered the tightly wrapped officer. It was you all along, but why?
An intense headache struck me, and I fainted. When I woke up again, I found myself in the Duke’s castle prison. “Your Highness, the assassin-dancer is here. The Duke is dead.” “Good.” I heard a voice speaking, a voice filled with fear. It was so familiar, how could he still be alive? Why did the guards address him as “Your Highness”? Years of court performance had honed my strong psychological resilience, allowing me to easily compose myself and await the mysterious twist of fate.
The face, familiar yet unfamiliar, suddenly appeared and shattered all my elegance. I couldn’t give up, but I was also happy. The complex emotions almost engulfed me completely: “Why? Why are you still alive?” His cold and stern expression remained unchanged: “You killed my brother. We are twins.” He entered the prison cell, gripping my jaw with a cold and indifferent expression that seemed to hold a hint of a smile: “You did well, so what do you want for your next mode of death? Burning at the stake or the iron maiden?” I looked at his face, sharp and emotionless, and I understood. Suddenly, I laughed wildly and madly: “Ah, ten years ago, beneath the Witch Ridge, it was you! It wasn’t him after all!” He still showed no expression, his eyebrows slightly furrowing before he let go, as if he understood why I suddenly shouted about the events of ten years ago.
He ordered the guards to step back, and as someone restrained with iron shackles, I posed no threat to him. He sat in a chair and asked me, “Don’t you want to know why?” I replied, “Who are you exactly?” He calmly said, “You are indeed naive enough. You cooperated with me to accomplish perfect slaughter. I owe my position to you.” He continued, “You killed the prince. We both took an interest in you. Apparently, he was just as naive as you, falling deeper and suffering more. The reputation of the witch after the priestess is well-deserved.” I asked, “During these years, who was it that was with me? Was it you or him?” He chuckled softly, “Sometimes it was me, sometimes it was him. So, you still couldn’t distinguish? That fool pretended to be my officer ten years ago, distributing ender pearls everywhere. I even laughed at his kindness. It didn’t matter if a few slaves escaped; it was laughable that they died at the hands of slaves. Furthermore, I have a question. The poison was enough to kill him, even to let you escape unharmed. Why the need for this extra step? Perhaps he couldn’t smell that scent, but I could. I knew it was poison.” I stared at his deep blue yet cold eyes for a moment, then turned my head, refusing to answer. He continued, “Your crude extraction methods left so many traces even in your own home. I had a friend investigate, and it became clear that you had sinister intentions. So, I used you while you were using me, but I truly didn’t expect you to be the runaway slave.”
Before leaving, he instructed the guards to take me to the public execution ground after lunch, where I would be burned at the stake. In the prison, I laughed manically. Did you really think that killing me would solve everything and stabilize the country? Yes, I once believed I was the hunter, but now I realize I am the hunted. On the public execution platform, I continued to laugh carelessly. He approached the stake and asked me, “Is this how it ends? Weren’t you supposed to be clever?” I looked towards the crowd gathering in the distance, a smile on my lips. “Is it over? No, it’s just the beginning.” “Explain yourself, or…” His voice carried a hint of impatience. I turned my head to look at him, my eyes filled with three parts pity and seven parts amusement. “Or what? What else can you do besides killing me? Do you think that by killing me, you can escape judgment? You accused me of being a witch, so I curse this city, I curse you.” “What else have you done?” His brow furrowed deeply, on the verge of exploding. But I remained silent, smiling once again as I looked into the distance, as if searching for something in the deep blue sky. As his patience wore thin, I slowly closed my eyes, allowing the flames to consume me, savoring the requiem of death that I had designed for myself.
THE END