Choosing The Villainess As My Mother

Chapter 47 - The hundredth Life

˗ˏˋChoosing The Villainess As My Mother ࿐ྂ

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Cynthia's (POV)

Here I am, inside the mansion, observing Bosworth as he talks to my dear daughter, Althea.

"Hmm, I don't know what you're trying to do, Bosworth, but..." I mused aloud as I watched them from afar.

"This is my hundredth life already. That means I've encountered those I should be wary of," I reflected silently, my gaze fixed on Bosworth.

"And you're the first one I should be wary of. I can handle the others, but you... I've seen your true colors and your capabilities in my past lives, Bosworth," I whispered to myself, while watching my dear Althea talking to Bosworth.

I've died ninety-nine ways and still come back to the past, where everything starts to go downhill.

Bosworth isn't just a typical butler; his skills rival those of an assassin. He's not just a rival; he's a formidable enemy from the past, one who will always be a threat.

It's funny how I've died at his hands, while he's also aiming to eliminate that old man-my father.

(Well, does he think I didn't know anything?)

"Well, I guess not today, I'm so done," I declared and then I turned and walked away.

Sooner or later, everything will start going downhill once I receive the letter from the palace.

No matter what clothes I wear or what actions I take, I still end up meeting the same fate in the end.

It feels like no matter what I do in this world, it's all futile and won't change anything.

I've given my best effort to find a way out, but I've only met my demise countless times, at the hands of the same people.

I remember all the lives I've lived before, but they all ended in death. There wasn't a single life where I experienced true happiness; it was always filled with sadness.

No matter how hard I tried to escape-from the empire, from the people, from my father, from him-death still found me.

Whether I was riding a carriage and got assassinated on my way to escape, or teleporting somewhere far only to find enemies waiting for me, it seemed like the end of my story was already written, and I couldn't change it.

Being poisoned by a maid, killed by a knight, fleeing from assassination attempts-none of it mattered.

I even trained myself in swordsmanship, even attempted to master magic, but it was all in vain. No matter my efforts, I couldn't alter my fate.

It's as though the universe itself is dictating that what's written cannot be changed. Despite my best efforts, it feels like a cosmic message urging me to surrender, to accept the inevitability of my demise.

I have long since given up on this life because I am so tired and sick of this world.

I'm not even sure if I'm still alive or if this world is just an empty shell that I inhabit.

I tried everything to make people see me differently and to change my life, but it always ends up backfiring on me.

Even my own father can't seem to see my efforts and simply demands more from me.

I'm exhausted. If death awaits me once more, I wish not to be reborn again. I wish for eternal rest.

"*Chuckles* But here I am, wishing for the same thing again and again, yet always waking up to this same existence," I said, staring at my reflection in my bedroom mirror.