The Tyrant’s Terminally-Ill Childhood Friend (Completed Main Story)

He said he wished I had died in the spring.

So that there would be more flowers to lay on my grave.

He was my only childhood friend, and I was his first love.

Our tragedy was one – I was destined to die at fifteen.

Yet, somehow I survived another ten years, only to be thrown to a tyrant for a night.

But why does the tyrant’s face seem so familiar?

“They seem to have picked the doll well this time.”

The spring flowers that adorned me, “While you are with me, you will be Lowell.”

He, who I met again after ten years, hadn’t forgotten me, presumed dead.

What an irony.

Especially since I returned to kill him.