The setting sun blazed like fire, casting a blood-red glow over the square where a pyre of firewood stood. Tens of thousands of citizens gathered, anger thick in the air as they chanted in unison: “Burn the demon in the wheelchair!”

“Hahahaha! What a bunch of foolish humans!”

They roared, venting senseless fury—all aimed at me, the woman branded “the demon.” Not once did they question whether I caused their suffering. Of course not. The masses don’t think. They’re a flock of blind white sheep, desperate for a black sheep to blame. I was the sacrifice prepared for this staged ritual. And its architect watched coldly from the viewing platform, high above.

“The Golden-Eyed Demon.” “The Demon in the Wheelchair.” “The Puppet Witch.” I bore countless cruel titles—all because of my golden eyes, eyes that echoed holy texts’ depictions of demons. So they *made* me one.

“Victoria von Lude, do you confess your crimes?”

The Emperor’s chief steward rose to address me. I longed to speak—but couldn’t. The night before, they’d seared off my tongue with a branding iron and pinned my jaw shut with an iron rod. Only muffled groans escaped. I lifted my gaze to His Majesty. Beside him, my sister Elizabeth offered a sweet, coquettish smile. Angelic features. Sky-blue eyes—the empire’s symbol of “nobility.” That’s how she became Empress.

“Everything that happened to my sister is my fault,” she cooed. “Please, Your Majesty, show mercy.”

Even now, playing the obedient daughter. *She* fabricated most charges against me. And Katherine—my stepmother—was the true culprit behind my ruin. At six, she shoved me down the stairs. My spine shattered. Paralyzed from the waist down. A lifetime in a wheelchair.

Yet my mind remained sharp. Clinging to life until twelve, I used my alchemical talent to enter the Arcane Academy and became an Arcanomechanical Artificer. After graduation, I developed arcane systems, invested wisely, built my company—rose to become one of the empire’s wealthiest. I never imagined my sister would conspire with her husband to sacrifice me… just to seize my fortune and research.

Fools! They don’t know the current emperor is a usurper!

Edward Rembrandt Wilnitke—the murderer of the late Emperor Henry III! Golden hair. A delicate baby face, beautiful as porcelain. But his heart is blacker than ink. He and Elizabeth staged this farce together. The real killers win everything. I, the scapegoat, burn for their rage. If the late emperor saw this… would he weep for his son?

No. *I* won’t weep.

I curse you! I curse you, that despicable pair!

“Victoria von Lude stands accused of the following!” the steward boomed through a magical amplifier—*my* company’s product. “Poisoning the late emperor! Consorting with demons! **! Using magic to bring drought to the north and floods to the south…”

Absurd! If I had such power, would I have spent half my life in a wheelchair? Ridiculous! Foolish! But the masses don’t think. They’re blind. They see only what they *want* to see. No one questions the “truth.”

For five years, Edward indulged Elizabeth’s decadence without limit. The Golden Palace echoed nightly with lavish parties. Cartloads of luxuries rolled in. The diamond necklace around her neck alone cost ten thousand gold coins. This waste shattered the treasury. With southern floods and northern droughts causing famine and despair, the tax system collapsed. And I—with my wealth—became prime prey for that vile couple.

With my death, Elizabeth “legally” inherits everything I built. The thought made me shake with rage. But the iron rod through my jaw held me silent. Even if I could speak… what words remain without a tongue?

“Hahahaha… What a foolish woman. I had chances to escape. But I stayed—because I loved this nation. My loyalty burned fiercely, kindled only by the late emperor’s kindness. It was Henry who let a disabled girl enter the Arcane Academy. For that… I devoted my life to repaying him. Had I known the truth of his murder then… the Imperial Capital would lie in ruins from an Arcane Reactor array’s blast.”

Too late. I fell into the trap. Lost everything.

“The victor claims the throne; the loser, the outlaw.” But I’m not even that. Stripped bare, I became a sacrifice to calm the mob.

“Burn her! Burn her! Burn her!”

The square erupted. The steward’s words ignited the crowd’s fury. Now, our handsome boy-emperor took center stage. He shoved aside Elizabeth’s fake tears, strode to the platform. Magical projectors cast his image across the square—a fifty-meter hologram. Another bitter irony: *my* light-magic system.

“Now, I decree!” he thundered. “Victoria von Lude is sentenced to death!”

Cheers shook the ground, as if I truly caused the disasters. You fools—use your brains! …Though bound to the pyre, who was I to mock them?

I lifted my eyes to the crimson sunset sinking behind distant peaks—a mirror of the empire. Ruined in five years. Edward and Elizabeth: geniuses of destruction. The empire sets. I feel no regret. At least I won’t witness its end. Perhaps the gods’ final mercy.

Damn it! I won’t accept this! I want revenge!

If given another life, I’d cast aside kindness, wear hypocrisy like armor, crush enemies with vicious cunning. Abandon all naivety. Slaughter every betrayer. Unleash fury through cruel schemes—to hurl that despicable pair into hell!

Tears soaked my robes. I clutched the red glass bead in my palm.

My treasure. My last possession. Too worthless for guards to steal. Yet precious to me—a gift from a dear friend. If that child lived… he’d be a fine gentleman now. He, too, had golden eyes… so like mine…

“Burn her! Burn her! Burn her!”

Chants swelled into a sonic wave. Edward, ever the performer, raised a hand. Silence fell.

“Burn this demon!”

Torches flew. Resin-soaked wood ignited instantly. Flames engulfed me in seconds.

So hot! So scorching! So painful!

Hair and clothes turned to ash. Skin melted. I gasped—fire flooded my lungs, searing them black. Before my eyes dissolved, I locked my gaze on the platform. Edward smiled in victory. Elizabeth’s fake tears hid a cold smirk.

How smug. Robbing me blind. Feasting with greasy mouths.

As a loser… I burn alive. I refuse! I won’t die like this! I’ll destroy everything! I’ll kill every betrayer! I’d sell my soul for this!

*(Hehe… Souls aren’t so cheaply traded—especially yours.)*

A familiar voice. Sound vanished. Pain vanished. Flames froze mid-dance. Time crystallized. I turned my eyes. A golden-eyed youth stood within the fire—delicate, androgynous features. In a cute dress, he’d pass for a maiden in seconds.

We’d done it once. Dressed him in my clothes.

“Victoria,” he said softly, cradling my charred, peeling face with pale hands. Strangely… no pain.

“Hahaha… Maybe I’m already dead. A dying dream.”

That child… what was his name…

Why can’t I remember?

*Crack!* The glass bead shattered. Glittering fragments swirled in the frozen flames—then vanished to dust.

Shattered?

Why?

No! No! No! It was his gift! My most precious memory! Gods—why so cruel? I prayed countless times. You never answered. Now, in my final breath, you take this?

Gods, I hate you! I renounce you!

I curse you—!

“Yes,” the youth smiled gently. “Hate them—hate those lofty gods. Victoria… you haven’t disappointed me. Your soul, steeped in hatred… so beautiful. So radiant. So I’ll make an exception. Speak my name. Let me fulfill your wish. Satisfy your vengeance. Fill your hollow heart. Victoria… I will give you everything. And this time—you have no right to refuse.”

Beneath his golden gaze, my soul trembled.

“Ch… Chris…”

“Hahaha. Yes.” His smile vanished. “Speak the demon’s name. The contract is sealed.”

Time surged forward. Flames roared. At the heart of the blood-stained square, my body turned to charcoal. Death came. At last… peace. The eternal silence of death.

Hehe… Did you think this was the end?

The demon will never let me go.