Planning The Psychotic Prince's Demise

I watch as Cyrus' gloved hand flexes around the knob. His face doesn't give anything away, but I know he's furious. There're subtle signs—his smile becomes less glaring, his eyes dim, the veins on his neck protrude.

The area around the prince turns concerningly hot, as if there was a furnace inside the room.

It's no surprise. While the seven brothers are addled with misfortune and vices, they're also compensated with blessings or, in other words, supernatural abilities.

Off the top of my head, I recall Sterling's being shape-shifting, Hunter's being superhuman speed and enhanced senses, and Nikolai's being telepathy.

As for the immaculate blue rose, Cyrus, he has the ability to manipulate fire.

Well, the word manipulate is a stretch. That kind of elemental energy is difficult to control. If anything, he can manifest it, but to tame the flames, one must exert a painful amount of self-discipline.

It's not hard to understand why Cyrus is repressed all the time. His biology works against him. Inside him exists a literal ticking time bomb. Pushing it down is necessary.

The princes' abilities are an open secret, after all. Everyone is aware of them, but for safety's sake, they aren't allowed to use them when others are around.

The door pushes open and in front of me is a scene I didn't think would unfold so early.

Long, light strands of golden hair and lavender eyes, as beautiful as the scenery outside, greet the three of us. The girl's soft, plush lips are trembling in fear. She's visibly distraught, like a deer caught in a hunter's trap—guilty.

There's a small part of the floor that's covered in ceramic pieces, all green and shimmering under the natural light. What remains of the artifact looks expensive, but it doesn't hold a candle to the beauty who broke it.

The moment is too familiar not to recognize.

Cyrus sighs.

"That was a priceless artifact imported from the south. It took weeks to transport and months to transact." He explains, almost sounding bored as he recounts the process.

The girl falls to her knees, head bowed down and tears streaming endlessly. Many players called the heroine's response an overreaction, but witnessing the situation in person, I can't help but disagree.

"Forgive me for my inadequacies, your highness! I was simply trying to clean the room. It was an accident!"

"I mean no disrespect when I say this," Cyrus interrupts, smile tight. "But that vase costs a thousand times more than what you'll be paid in your lifetime."

The exchange is uncomfortably tense, morally dubious, but part of me recognizes it as the script. I've memorized those lines of dialogue like my life depends on knowing the words. I remain detached, allowing the scene to unfold.

"Please, your highness! Surely, there's another way to repay you." She begs.

I turn to my husband as the girl begins to sobs.

Valerius looks uninterested in helping her—hilarious, knowing the things he's done or, in this case, will do for the heroine's sake.

I'll be on the receiving end of his madness, eventually. It's going to be my blood on the floor and hers on his lips. Avoiding his obsession will lead to a better outcome for me or, at least, it ensures that Penelope will live.

Cyrus hums in contemplation. "If you're unable to monetarily compensate me for the value of the vase, then we can settle something."

She looks relieved, tears halting almost immediately. The beauty beams, an infectious smile plastered on her face.

It makes me smile. So innocent.

"You are a gracious prince, your highness! Thank you!"

The game's early start is concerning. Valerius is supposed to be months into his marriage before the first act begins. Judging from the familiar exchange, it's Cyrus' route being played out.

Good. That means Valerius' twisted love won't be unfurled in this timeline. Cyrus will win the heroine's heart, although in a rather questionable way, and all will be well for me.

Except, instead of asking her to be his personal maid like in the game, Cyrus says, "Pack your belongings. You will be reassigned to the kingdom's dungeons. You'll spend your days cleaning after criminals."

The reaction is immediate. The heroine's smile drops, her eyes widen like saucers—I'm sure my expression mimics hers.

"What?"

"What?" We ask at the same time.

"You heard me." Cyrus turns his back to us. "I'm afraid that's the most generous offer I can give you. There are no open slots in the palace at the moment."

The dungeons? I'm sure the vase cost a fortune, but to introduce a poor, helpless girl to an uncontrolled environment full of vile men is outrageous. I have no doubts that the guards are as untrustworthy as the convicted criminals.

"Val." I utter before I can think it through.

He frowns. "Don't call me that."

"Don't you think this is too much? Say something. Stop your brother." I bargain, voice as desperate as the heroine's.

"I don't know," Valerius' eyes travel down to where the blonde girl is kneeled over, his gaze demeaning. "She broke a priceless gift. The punishment seems reasonable to me."

He speaks as if he would've thought of a worse verdict and that terrifies me.

Cryus smiles, taking my hand in his once again. I almost flinch away. "Please. Don't stress yourself out, princess. Let me handle the situation."

I'm left speechless, a large clog stuck in my throat. They're horrendous people, I realize. Entitled royals who discard people like objects.

I swallow. "How much was it?"

Cyrus' brows raise comically. "The vase?"

"Request the amount from my house. Tell my father I broke it."

"That's outrageous." He exclaims. "The vase is a gift from me to you."

It's outrageous how fast you turned your back on your own subject. It's outrageous how mercilessly you decided the fate of another soul. It's outrageous how uncaring you are of an innocent girl's safety.

There's so much I want to say, but there's no reason to reveal my hand so early on. Especially when it concerns Cyrus.

"Then that's resolved," I smile a practiced smile. "The vase is mine therefore it is up to me to decide how I want to be compensated."

Cyrus opens his mouth, but swallows his protests once he realizes that I'm dead serious.

What I'm about to do next puts me in a heavy disadvantage. Keeping the heroine around will risk triggering Valerius' route. The strategic approach would've been to let her rot in a dungeon for the rest of her days.

But I'm not inhumane, never will I resemble the tattered princples of the princes.

"Princess." The heroine mumbles, reverence in her eyes.

It's no kind act, just basic human decency, but I suppose in this time period, even that is a rare thing to encounter.

"What is your name?" I ask her, although there is no need to.

"Aurelia." She replies.

Soon, she will be Princess Aurelia, as dictated by the story of Black Rose. For now, she is Aurelia, Princess Penelope's handmaid.