webnovel

Rise of the Unfavored Princess

I had thought that my life couldn't get worse when I walked in on my fiancé cheating on me with my best friend. But after a series of unfortunate events, I opened my eyes in a world that I had only read about in a webnovel, the Erudian Empire, ruled under the domineering, bloody reign of Emperor Helio. The worst part? I'm not even the main character! Reborn as Winter Royberg de la Erudian, I am the pitiful side character who is discovered to be a royal bastard princess due to a certain physical trait only the imperial bloodline possesses. But I know the end of Winter's story and the unwanted royal punching bag is framed as a witch and killed at age 16 on the guillotine due to the scheming of the cruel empress. An aloof, murder happy father? Check. Psycho half-sister? Check. Meddlesome author who wants me to follow the script? Double check! I don't want to die an early death again, so I'm determined not to ever be discovered as a royal again. But before I know it, I'm trapped in a palace of blood and opulence playing tricky games of power, games I have no clue how to win. How will I survive to adulthood in the imperial palace and get my happily ever after? And am I really the only person who fell into this world? *UPDATES 1-2 TIMES A WEEK* *1500 TO 3300 WORDS PER CHAPTER*

bunnyreadsabook · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
218 Chs

Ch. 133: Welcome Banquet

If there's one thing that has never changed between my two lives, it's the sound of a party. The clinking glasses, the constant hum of chatter, and the occasional laugh that climbs above all the noise, the sounds are eternal and transcend time.

I, however, most certainly am not. My godlike powers only serve as a reminder of my mortality. I have died once after all, in the pinnacle of my youth. By some crazy factor of bad luck, I have reincarnated as a princess. But I may still die once again when I turn 16 if Julian was right.

"You look beautiful," a voice that has tormented my nightmares for years says behind me.

"Thank you, Mother," I reply in monotone. The backs of my calves grow itchy with remembrance.