After we had subdued the chaos, my troubles at the Garcia estate seemed unending. The servants at Garcia Mansion cast me looks so filled with disdain that it made me want to ball my fists in frustration.

The challenges didn't stop there; my progress in the world of politics was riddled with obstacles. Despite my relentless efforts to climb the ranks, the king had now turned his attention to my marriage with Maria.

Maria's father, with a grim expression, was adamant about pushing through with our wedding plans.

As the wedding feast concluded and the guests departed, the atmosphere in the mansion underwent a dramatic transformation. The joyous celebrations gave way to an eerie silence, replaced by the haunting sounds of desperation and pleas for mercy.

Everyone in the estate, including Maria's father, met their end by my sword. After a night of drinking, I found Maria's father in the study and drove my blade through him, avenging my brother's death.

He said nothing as he lay there, just smiling at me with that eerie calm.

Later, drenched in blood and still wearing my wedding clothes, I stepped into the bridal chamber and threw my sword aside.

Maria tried to get up, her eyes red and full of fear as she saw me. Her body shook uncontrollably.

I strode forward to push her onto the bed, tearing off her collar with my right hand. The sound of the wedding dress breaking open

I grabbed Maria by the chin, my grip tightening as I stared her down. "Maria, if your father hadn't been so focused on his own ambition, switching sides to secure his position, my parents wouldn't have died. My brother, who should have been out there achieving great things, was cut down by your father's sword.

"Do you have any idea how much pain I went through? Why did you leave me to fend for myself in the Garcia Mansion?

"I've faced nothing but disdain from your family and constant roadblocks in the political world. Do you even realize how tough this has been?"

I took off my wedding dress and made love to her without waiting for her to react.

A tear slid down Maria's cheek, and I brushed it away with one hand, only to tighten my grip on her throat with the other. "Maria, I want you to see the fallout from your father's actions, even after he's gone. I've gotten my revenge, but I'm not letting you off easily. You need to feel the pain I've been through."

The heavy curtains on the canopy bed swayed all night long. Maria sobbed beneath me, her voice failing her—probably because the poison I'd slipped into her drink was kicking in. Her throat was raw, and no sound came out.

I thought of my own mother, who was so like hers, and how my father had always cherished her. My brother's concern for her had been genuine. How could she not understand the agony of losing loved ones?

Our families had been close for years, and the political drama wasn't as I had believed. Maria's father had shaken with fear as he delivered the final blow, and I had turned a blind eye to Maria's suffering as she held that sword. Her father's secretive burning of paper offerings after her death seemed so insincere to me.

The ache in my chest was unbearable, like a thousand ants crawling inside. I coughed, and blood dribbled from the corner of my mouth.

The king demanded that I look up, and I had no choice but to comply. My disheveled appearance was on full display. The king laughed maniacally, his gaze as cold and slithery as a snake. "Minister Thompson, do you hate me?"

With a voice shaking from both fear and regret, I bowed my head again. "I dare not."

"The king demands your death, and you must obey. I'm just a dog at the king's feet, not worthy of hatred."

I despised myself for being so weak and foolish, failing to see that I had targeted the wrong person and ended up killing the one who had been truly loyal to me—Maria.

Maria was so tortured by me-- I didn't just force her into bed that night.

I scratched Maria's arm, deep in hatred. After the pleasure, I took out my dagger and drew a knife on her arm, one after another while counting.

"One. This is the pain when my mother hung herself.

"Two. The pain of my father being shot by arrows.

"Three. The pain of my brother being stabbed to death by my father.

"Four..."

Maria had already been tortured into unconsciousness by me. When she awoke, she was greeted by the sight of me shouting for help.

"Maria has lost her mind. She's killed her family and now she's trying to kill me."

The night watchmen reported to the government officials, and when Judge Evans arrived, his gaze made me feel as though I was nailed to a pillar of shame.

Maria's broken body, clad only in a torn undergarment, was exposed to the officials. I forced her into bridal attire and threw her onto the government officials' carriage.

I had arranged for someone to observe the torture Maria was subjected to in the Court of Judicial Review and report back to me.

She fainted from the agony of the torture, only to be revived with a bucket of cold water.

"Maria," I said, "if you simply sign this confession, you won't have to endure any more punishment."

Judge Evans, who had some personal connections with Maria's family, hoped she would sign the confession I had prepared to lessen her suffering.

Maria only glanced at the confession. The first line read: "For the murder of her father and eighteen others, the crime is unforgivable and punishable by death."

She spat a mouthful of blood onto the confession.

Judge Evans sighed and shook his head. "Maria, you've ruined another piece of paper. I'm only trying to make your death easier. Everyone outside knows that Christopher is behind your family's deaths. He's now a favorite of the king and you're just a pawn he's discarded."

"This Court of Judicial Review is filled with his spies. If he wants to torture you, there's nothing I can do. The political world is ever-changing. I'll prepare a new confession for you. Hurry up and sign it to spare yourself more suffering."

Maria was released from the torture device and thrown onto a pile of straw in the prison cell.

That night, I secretly visited her. The light from the high windows illuminated her bruised and battered body. The bright red wedding gown she wore was stained with dried, darkened blood.

My heart, once calm, now roiled with regret.