You die in the modern world lights fading, sirens screaming. But when you open your eyes, you’re in silk robes, bound in chains, kneeling before a throne. The courtiers whisper, calling you “princess”, but their eyes burn with hate. You realize you’ve awakened in the body of a royal traitor, fated to be executed at dawn.

The emperor rises from his throne, his presence suffocating. Cold fingers lift your chin, his lips curling into a cruel smirk.

“This time, little dove… try not to betray me.”

And then it hits you this isn’t the first time he’s killed you. And if his eyes are any warning, it won’t be the last.