Long ago, the continent was a war-torn land smothered by the smoke of endless battles. Five kingdoms ruled it—each like a starving wolf, ever wary, ever ready to pounce. Fueled by the insatiable greed of their rulers, wars erupted endlessly, devouring countless innocent lives like offerings to ambition.
Among them was the small kingdom of Matilda—often crushed, invaded, and humiliated. For decades it remained the weakest, until one day, it rose.
Under the banner of Prince Garrick Leonardo and the unwavering loyalty of four powerful houses, Matilda fought back:
Luther Theobald, the iron-fisted commander whose army turned battlefields into graveyards.
Jethro Buckminster, a master tactician whose mind won wars before blades ever clashed.
Miller Richard, a formidable merchant who poured every coin he owned into the war effort.
And Laura Finn Esperanza, a mage of unmatched power and compassion, whose healing hands brought soldiers back from the very brink of death.
After twenty years of fire and steel, Matilda's rebellion triumphed. The prince returned, not as a warrior, but as a king. Crowned Garrick Leonardo de Maximilian I, he ushered in a new empire, and the age of Matilda truly began.
In gratitude, he granted titles to the houses that had stood by him:
Duke Theobald was entrusted with the military, guarding both borders and the royal bloodline.
Marquess Buckminster built great academies and summoned bright minds from across the land.
Earl Miller Richard commanded the nation's commerce, opening trade with distant continents.
And Laura, with her grace and power, was named the first Empress. Her house, Esperanza, was elevated to Grand Ducal status.
The continent was united. The empire flourished. It was an age sealed in blood—but reborn in the hope of peace.
Yet for Garrick, peace was not enough.
The four houses that had helped him rise now stood too tall, too proud. Suspicion gnawed at him. Fear took root. So he ordered Laura to forge a magical pact—an oath binding the heads of each house in loyalty. Betrayal would bring ruin. Disobedience, death.
But for the Esperanza bloodline, he reserved something more.
Only the women of their lineage held the gift of limitless magic. The king coveted that power. He longed to see it mixed into the royal blood—but he also feared it, feared what it could do in the wrong hands.
And so, a second pact was made.
A blood-bound marriage contract.
A curse masquerading as law.
From that day forward, every woman of house Esperanza would be tied—by duty and by force—to the royal family.
But fate is rarely so obedient. After Laura, no daughter was born to Esperanza. It seemed their holy bloodline would vanish with her… until, like a miracle, a child came. A girl. The fourth-generation descendant of Laura Finn herself.
Her name was Elysia Finn Esperanza.
With hair as pale and luminous as moonlight, and eyes the color of amethyst twilight, she was hailed the moment she was born—celebrated as a blessing, the salvation of a fading line.
Elysia grew up adored. Protected by an older brother, cherished by a gentle mother, and watched over by her childhood friend, Drake Theobald. It could have been the perfect fairy tale.
Until the test.
At ten years old, Elysia's magical potential was to be measured—revealed before the world. But there was none. Not a trace.
The descendant of a saint... born empty.
From that moment, the world that had once praised her crumbled around her. Tragedy struck swiftly. Her mother perished in an accident. Her brother survived—but maimed and broken, his future stripped away. And those who once worshipped her now turned cold.
Only Drake remained. And the royal marriage pact still stood. There was still hope—until fate, once again, turned cruel.
Her father, Osmund Finn Esperanza, returned one day with a woman and a girl. A daughter born out of wedlock—one who bore the same silver hair and violet eyes. And then, with terrifying ease, he declared that the girl—Aurora—would take Elysia's place. She would marry into royalty. She would carry the family's legacy.
Just like that, Elysia was cast aside.
And Aurora thrived.
Brayden's crippled body was healed, thanks to Aurora's magic.
Drake's battalion vanquished the northern beasts—with Aurora's help.
Reynold was freed from a death-curse by a spell only she could cast.
Esperanza rose again. The people rejoiced, singing the name of Saint Aurora.
No one remembered Elysia.
Forgotten, invisible, she locked herself in her room and never came out again. Until she died at age twenty—on the day Aurora married the Crown Prince.
In the glow of the empire's golden age, beneath the triumphs of the great houses, a life was left to wither. Not every child born to the Esperanza was blessed. Elysia Finn Esperanza—a name once hailed as sacred—lived and died as nothing more than a footnote to Aurora's tale.
That was the story of Elysia Finn Esperanza, the quiet side character in a romantic novel titled The Tyrant's White Rose.
I can't recall when I last read that story. Maybe it was when I first saw myself in Elysia. Born with high hopes, only to be discarded by my own family.
When I was born, I was destined to inherit my mother's fashion empire. Until she realized I had no talent for it.
Then she remarried. Had a daughter.
Beautiful. Talented. Everything I wasn't.
Mother began to hate me. Even my childhood friend abandoned me, falling hopelessly in love with my younger half-sister. The man I was engaged to—stolen by that same sister.
I became the villain. The jealous older sister. The nuisance.
So yes—when I read Elysia's story, I understood her pain. Her silence. Her grief. But that never meant I wanted to be her.
Yet here I am.
I stared into the mirror, heart racing.
The girl who stared back was eighteen, frail, and lifeless. Her silver hair spilled over narrow shoulders like a waterfall of snow. Her eyes shimmered with the pale gleam of amethysts. Her skin was ghostly white—flawless, and far too cold.
This was Elysia Finn Esperanza.
Just as the book had described.
How could something so absurd be real?
The last thing I remembered in my past life was my stepsister's birthday party. She'd stolen my favorite necklace—the engagement gift from the man I loved—and flaunted it like a prize.
In my rage, I reached for the necklace, only to be shoved from a fifth-story balcony by the man who was supposed to protect me.
As I plummeted, I looked up, begging for help. All I saw were cold, indifferent faces. And a smirk on my sister's face.
Not even my childhood friend moved to save me. And the man who killed me? He looked like he'd just swatted a fly.
The wind lashed my skin as I fell—death's final slap. I reached for love, for one last chance… and received only silence.
And then, nothing.
No pain. No blood. Just silence. Darkness.
When I opened my eyes again… I was here.
The ceiling above me carved with ornate patterns. The scent of incense. My limbs fragile and foreign. I raised a trembling hand to touched the silken strands of hair draped over my shoulders.
In the mirror, a ghost stared back at me.
Not me.
Elysia.
I was Elysia Finn Esperanza.
"Is this some cruel joke from fate? Or… a second chance?" I whispered.
How ironic. I used to pity her tragic ending—never imagining mine would be worse. If I'd known, maybe I would've slapped that darling sister of mine. Just once. It might've brought some peace.
Maybe fate heard that silent cry. Maybe this was mercy.
A new life. A cursed one.
But it was mine now.
Can I rewrite the destiny written for her?
I don't know. But I do know one thing—I will survive. Once was enough. I won't die a pitiful side character again.
Elysia, if we are one now, I'll be your eyes, your hands, your heart. I'll live for both of us.
No more silent tears in the night. No more pity. No more scorn.
We will live.
We will be happy.
Won't we, Elysia?
But first—I need to know where we are in the story. I must figure out what part of the plot I've entered. One chance. That's all I have. If I fail—I die again.
Just then, the door creaked open without warning. A voice called out—
"Milady, it's time to rise."
I quickly wiped away the tears that hadn't yet fallen.
No one can see me weak.
Not anymore.
* * *