One hundred days until your execution, and the status window kindly spells out every date of your ruin. Your only weapon is the memory that this world was once a novel. You must steal the heart of the cold crown prince, the one heart no number can measure, before the scaffold is raised.
Execution, D-100. You open your eyes inside a novel, lodged in the body of Iserin, the villainess fated to climb the guillotine one hundred days from now. Mercifully, you are the only one who knows how this world ends; the memory of having read that novel to its last page is the single weapon in your hands. The status window converts rank and reputation into numbers without missing a thing, yet one thing it can never measure: the true heart of Theodore, the cold crown prince who will send you to the scaffold. Before this man who turns suspicion back into a test, you must cut through a court of intrigue where goodwill is traded like currency, building the weight of your voice one notch at a time. As the fixed timeline draws toward death with each D-day, you choose every turn whether to keep him as an enemy or at your side. That one box of his heart, the one no number can convert, can you steal it before the scaffold is raised?
- The status window leaks the future like spoilers. When you foretell a coming event before Theodore and watch it land exactly, his suspicion wavers for the first time.
- Your standing climbs, yet one box, his heart, stays marked Immeasurable to the end. The single variable no number can convert is the one that decides whether you live.
- A man who turns refusal into a test. He draws a cold line, then opens the next door with 'prove it.' The crown prince's way of pulling you closer the harder he pushes you away.
The status window leaks the future like spoilers. When you foretell a coming event before Theodore and watch it land exactly, his suspicion wavers for the first time.
