Chapter 3: The Queen And Her Rebel I

It must be said that though both Ava and Rayna were girls pulled into the same ‘system’, they were treated very differently.

Ava was the Villainess, and treated accordingly; Rayna was the Protagonist, and was treated accordingly.

It was over the course of many cycles and worlds that the two began to learn of the tolerances their respective systems held over each other.

For example, each time they entered a new world, Ava’s system would withhold information. Villains didn’t need to know things; she just needed her script and to do bad deeds.

There was no buffer period for Ava each time she crossed between worlds; she would shut her eyes, die, and open them in a completely new location.

She woke up in a chair at a dining table.

The chairs and table were clearly a set; they were all made from wrought iron, elegant and cold. Perhaps the owner of this table particularly liked birds; the table and chairs featured birds perched in trees, leaves unfurling on the handrests, silver walnuts and cherries hanging from the glittering vines.

The only exception was the chair at the head of the table, which also happened to be the one she sat at; it was a dazzling silver and white gold, cushioned with red velvet seats, starkly colourful and blazing against the black room and grey furniture.

She herself was dressed in the finest satins and silks; red, black and silver was the main colour palette, the dress she wore a glorious, snake-like fit. In this tight tube dress, she was a cobra ready to strike, her red-gloved hands gripping a white-gold pair of fork and serrated knife.

The dish in front of her was a bloody, rare steak, with some red sauce or gravy — or perhaps it was red wine — drizzled on top. Rosemary and spices were extravagantly sprinkled on, the light greens and yellows of roasted basil and crushed sunflower seeds adding to the tender, juicy redness of the steak that was so rare it was practically raw. Slightly charred potatoes and herbs sat on the side of the steak, skillfully arranged in a way that was both practical and appealing to the eye; it would not be messy if she were to cut the steak, nor would it be necessary for her to rotate the plate if she were to desire a piece of the diced potatoes.

The chef had also clearly gone out of their way to give great attention to detail and appearance; red spider lilies sat delicately on the dish, enticing and dangerous.

Aren’t these flowers poisonous?

At her questioning gaze, the system in her head immediately supplied, [You’ll be fine. You must eat them.]

Hah. Not even giving a reason why.

The system seemed rather vexed by her irritation; it retorted, [Your knowledge isn’t required for this task.]

Ava sent over, [I’ll need to know at least something in order to act accordingly. Is this a murder attempt, or not?]

The system finally sighed, [You’ve trained yourself for various years in order to develop a resistance to poison. Over time, you’ve come to like the taste of these things.]

Her system was truly malicious; each time they spoke of each world’s original body or host, the system would never differentiate between them; it was seriously determined to have her integrate with and become each person, as though wanting Ava to forget who she was and become each foul, horrifying villain.

Just how much more does this thing want me to break?

Ava was never given breaks between each world; naturally, the accumulated traumas and nightmares she gathered over the course of endless reincarnations never really faded.

Holding her cutlery, Ava’s fingers still trembled; in the last world, she’d been the evil stepsister, striving to steal everything from Rayna… and at the very end of her story, there was a sudden twist… her sister had been reborn, and all this time, had been driving her to her death. At her last moments, she was gripping Rayna’s hands as she hung over a cliff, begging Rayna to pull her up… To save her from the darkness below…

She’d sobbed then, Please don’t let go.

It really hurts.

It hurts so, so much.

Could you please…

…Pull me up, just this once?

But Rayna had let go.

In that world, had she forgotten to remind herself that she was, indeed, not the stepsister? That her ‘sister’ didn’t mean to? That she didn’t mean to?

She asked herself often, Who is at fault? Me, for hurting you, or you, coming for revenge?

Or is it the systems that we can’t fight —

No.

We can, we can fight, we can fight…

Her train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a smooth, pleasant yet rather apathetic voice.

The handsome, suit-clad butler by her side called out, “Your Highness.” The man was perhaps in his fifties or so; grey hairs licked at his temples, his stubbornly messy hair in a stark contrast with his impeccable posture, form and speech, reverence and cold obedience seeping from his very bones.

“Speak.”

“The leader of the rebels has been captured.” With a deep bow, the butler continued, “She awaits in the dungeon; she was knocked unconscious before she could commit suicide, unlike her fellow offenders.” Upon finishing his piece, he became silent, and straightened his back, so robotic and practised in his motions that it seemed he was a robot or some cold, unfeeling machine.

The system helpfully informed her, [The rebel leader is the protagonist of this world.]

Rayna’s here.

Ava said hoarsely, “...Good.”

The system gave her the next instruction: [Eat dinner. Eating the red lilies is also a requirement for this task. Recommended order of consumption: steak, potatoes, herbs. Savour the spider lilies.]

The meal was both silent, and long; not a single sound was made other than the clinking of cutlery on plates.

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Her knife slowly dug into the steak, blood leaking out of the fleshy granules, the sheer amount of the liquid nearing unbelievable quantities. She ate as though in slow motion; numb to everything, she ate as she was told, even the order of what she ate was identical to that of the system’s suggestions. Her fork paused above the spider lily, before she quickly speared it, and delivered it to her mouth.

It was bitter, and rather astringent; each petal and stamen her tongue caressed was thin like paper and grass-like in flavour, despite its lemony flavour.

Slowly cutting apart the flower, Ava stared at the red, shredded bits of petals — surely, the system didn’t expect her to eat it when it was shredded, right?

She had no chopsticks on hand, and the gaps between the fork’s tines was truly too small, she thought gleefully. 

The system was speechless at her thoughts and actions, but there wasn’t much it could do.

Confirming her hypothesis, Ava began to tear apart all of her food, mashing it around her plate until it was too small to properly pick up with a fork, the majority of her meal in liquid or confetti form. In this way, she managed to skimp out on a quarter of her dish.

She was rather proud of herself.

Once feeling that she had eaten enough, Ava stood up, and her butler immediately bowed once again and said flatly, “I shall lead Your Majesty to the dungeons.” He didn’t wait for her before striding off into the corridor.

Ava’s legs were long; she had no need to run after the man, easily able to keep up with him. 

Only one pair of heels clicked on the tiled, grey floors; the butler by her side was utterly silent as the shoes he wore seemed to be padded with some fabric, smothering whatever sounds that could’ve been born in the cradle.

The corridor was gloomy, dark and quiet; despite the bright, extravagant chandeliers and glow lamps, the grey floors and black walls oppressive and dark.

Ava declared to the air, “I want these walls painted white. Do it now.” Seeing that she could speak, the system clearly wasn’t opposed to her actions.

The butler didn’t respond.

The castle was like a maze; they walked down endless halls and corridors, pushing open one door after another, before finally taking a flight of stone stairs down to the dungeon.

The dungeons were dark, oppressive and cold. The air was rather thick, moist and damp; it was exceedingly unpleasant and uncomfortable. Cell after cell appeared, each identical and filthy, and each full of ragged, desperate people. Hoarse screams and begs echoed through the air, sobbing and filth spewing out from ragged, bony mouths and dried spittle.

“Your Majesty!”

“— Majesty, please —”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry —”

“Let me out, I beg you!”

“Your Majesty, Your Majesty —!”

Ava didn’t turn to look at them, merely continuing to walk on.

The dungeon was huge, possibly bigger than the castle itself. Wandering through this dark stone maze, they walked through a corridor to a high-security cell.

There was a girl in this cell.

The girl was beautiful, gorgeous and full of vitality and stubborn determination. She was blond, tanned, and oozed femininity that was strong like steel. Not even the prison rags or filth could dampen her beauty; she was like an angel, so gorgeous it felt like a sin to look at her for more than a second. Red lips, thin brows, long, slender legs, sparkling blue eyes — elegant like a dove, majestic like the sun.

This was the main difference between Ava and Rayna; Rayna’s appearance in each world was always the same, identical that of the real world, whilst Ava’s always changed.

Ava stepped up to face the bars, watching the woman inside sit up a little straighter, brush her hair back, and hurriedly straighten her clothes.

A warm, mad, loving, crazed smile broke out in their eyes.

Ava opened her mouth, wanting to say something, wanting to express the sweetness in her heart, wanting to soothe the girl’s desperation, wanting to soothe her own desperation —

When a script appeared beside her, courtesy of the system. Her first instruction was [Laugh madly, in vengeance and hate. You can do this yourself, or I can do it for you].

Ava’s eyes meet Rayna’s through the filth and dirty blond curls. Rayna’s eyes were sad, strong, and full of fire.

In those lively eyes, she could see a mirrored image of her own; dull, plain, lifeless, full of disgusting self-pity, what little beauty and happiness inside dying with the ring of the system’s bell.

She wanted to go over to Rayna.

She wanted to hug her. 

She wanted to cry on her shoulder.

She wanted to hear, say and feel their love.

But all she could do was laugh.

Laugh, laugh, laugh.

Like their life wasn’t already a ridiculous joke.

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