He was the tyrant and I was the demon queen, and we both died in a palace coup.
On the night of my wedding, I decided to be a good wife and protect him.
"Your Majesty, why are you burning these tonight?"
The candlelight flickered, and when he turned around, his eyes were as sinister as before.
"The Queen thinks these names should live to see the sun tomorrow?"
I looked down at the corner of the poison bag exposed under the table and suddenly smiled.
It turns out that we all carry our memories back to the starting point of mutual suspicion.
But he suddenly changed from being violent and gently rubbed my painful knees: "Queen, you don't have to be like this."
I thought he had changed until I saw him burning the list of remnants of the previous government late at night - those were the people who killed me in my previous life.
And under his desk, there was a poison bag that I failed to deliver.
