After I was brutally murdered by the Queen Consort, I found myself unexpectedly reborn into the body of another woman. To my astonishment, this person was intersex! Without hesitation, I pinned the haughty Queen Consort Charlotte Beaumont firmly beneath me. “You’re so desperate to conceive, aren’t you? Perhaps I can help you with that?” Watching the disheveled yet powerless Queen Consort struggle beneath me, I felt a surge of unadulterated pleasure. But that wasn’t all. My gaze soon turned to King Lysander, rumored to have a fondness for men. Leaning close, I pinched Charlotte’s chin and laid out my demand: “Queen Consort, take me to the palace. Bring me before His Majesty.” … In my previous life, I was but a lowly scullery maid, assigned to the chambers of Queen Consort Charlotte. She was a woman of narrow mind and volatile temperament, treating human lives as less than nothing. Merely because I was cracking walnuts by her side when she heard news of another consort’s pregnancy, she had me beaten to death with a staff on a baseless charge. The hatred that surged through me was visceral; my very organs twisted in agony as I bled out, unwilling to accept my fate. Yet, when I opened my eyes again, I found myself in a pitch-black, suffocating room. The air was damp and foul, thick with the stench of decay. I coughed violently, then turned to a dusty, tarnished bronze mirror in the corner, where I saw a face strikingly similar to Charlotte’s! Sensual eyes, a pert nose, delicate lips… a naturally intoxicating charm, indeed. It was six or seven parts Charlotte, but a tear mole beneath my left eye added a touch of alluring mystery that even she lacked. As I inhabited this new body, a flood of memories cascared into my mind. Once they settled, I understood: this body belonged to the true Lady Beaumont. However, due to a peculiar birth defect—being born intersex—the Beaumont family, desperate to preserve their reputation, had adopted Charlotte, who bore a close resemblance to me, to masquerade as their daughter. Under the family’s tutelage, Charlotte had blossomed into a remarkable young woman, while I, the true blood heir, was slowly forgotten, left to languish and rot in this desolate annex. But as Charlotte’s position solidified, she grew increasingly arrogant and cruel. To fuel her vanity, she would often visit me, her tone condescending, delighting in my misery. Even worse, she secretly orchestrated insidious attacks against me, using her loyal retainers. To be absolutely certain I wouldn't pose a threat, she even drugged me, hoping to render me simple-minded and imbecilic. Recalling this, a fierce resolve hardened within me. Typical of the venomous Queen Consort; just as cruel in the family mansion as she was in the palace. My thoughts spun, and my hand instinctively reached down, confirming the presence of anatomy that shouldn't be there. So, this was what being intersex truly meant! Appearing outwardly female, yet possessing both male and female reproductive capabilities! It was little wonder the Beaumonts had kept Celeste, the body I now inhabited, confined to such a damp, gloomy room. But at this thought, a sudden, mirthless laugh escaped me. Perhaps the world would deem an intersex person a monster, but to me, it was an unprecedented advantage. Rumors whispered that before his ascension, the King was a notorious rake, known for frequenting dens of illicit pleasures catering to peculiar tastes. They said he was infatuated with men, only taking concubines after becoming King to ensure an heir. Whether these rumors held any truth, I, having already died once, cared little. My only desire was revenge, no matter the cost. A grand plan for vengeance began to form in my mind! At that moment, I heard footsteps outside and a familiar, arrogant voice, laced with mockery: “Let’s see if my unsightly sister is still breathing.” As light streamed in from the doorway, I saw her, exactly as she was in my past life’s memories: the dazzling Queen Consort Charlotte Beaumont. She held a perfumed handkerchief to her nose, her face contorted in disgust. “Are you living and relieving yourself in this room now? You reek!” I stared at her, unwavering, and then a slow smile spread across my face. My voice, unused for so long, came out raspy and unpleasant: “Sister Charlotte, come closer. Come closer, I have a secret to tell you.” She fixed her gaze on me, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What secret could you possibly have? I already know your biggest one.” I merely smiled wider. “But don’t you want to know why you haven’t conceived a child after all this time? I have a method that can help you.” Conception was Charlotte’s greatest anxiety in my past life. Predictably, the moment I uttered those words, Charlotte’s interest was piqued. She dismissed the maids who had accompanied her. “You all may withdraw. Lady Celeste and I have a few private matters to discuss.” Then, alone, she stepped into my squalid little room. “What method? Tell me quickly… Ah!” Charlotte demanded impatiently, but her last word was abruptly cut short. Catching her off guard, I lunged, seizing her wrists and binding her hands and feet. Just as I’d anticipated, this body possessed the strength of a young man. Charlotte’s eyes widened in terror. “What are you doing?!” I gave a menacing chuckle, then, in the most innocent tone, I whispered, “Sister Charlotte, you want to be with child, don’t you? I can get you pregnant. Have you forgotten… I also possess that?” Charlotte’s composure completely shattered. Fear and terror erased all traces of her usual grace. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! Ah! Help! Someone… Mmph! Don’t… Help!” But no matter how she cried out, I clamped my hand over her mouth, my eyes burning with pure hatred. “Scream all you want, dear sister. I have nothing to lose, so I’m not afraid of you who has everything! At worst, we both go down together.” If fate had granted me this rebirth, I swore I would exact every ounce of revenge for myself and for the real Celeste—all the bitterness, all the humiliation. I would make her suffer beyond measure. With that thought, I put my full strength into it, and the sudden sound of tearing fabric ripped through the stale air. Charlotte seemed to guess my intention; her face went ashen, and she shrieked, “Get away! Get away… Ah!” I paid no heed, consumed by a furious resolve. Listening to her heart-wrenching screams, I felt nothing but grim satisfaction. In my previous life, when I was executed, I had pleaded and begged her, but she had turned a deaf ear, ordering me gagged and kicking me aside. Now, I was simply repaying the debt. I would not relent. I tormented Charlotte for a long, long time. So long that she wept and begged for mercy, so long that her tears ran dry, so long that the proud light vanished from her eyes. I had truly ground her into the dirt, watching the once haughty Queen Consort descend into a state of disheveled, dazed despair. In that moment, I understood the profound sense of dominance a man felt over a woman; now, I was dominating Charlotte. Leaning close, I pinched her face and issued my demand: “Charlotte Beaumont, take me to the palace. Bring me before the King.” I couldn't simply let her go. I had to enter the palace. I wanted to be in her presence every single day; a simple act of revenge wouldn't be enough to quell the hatred of both myself and the true Celeste. Charlotte’s eyes were unfocused, yet at the mention of “the King,” she instinctively looked at me. “No, impossible! I will never let a freak like you appear before His Majesty! You’re unworthy! You’re a monster!” Her true nature, unchanged. I narrowed my eyes, observing her reaction. It seems her affection for the King is indeed profound. All the more reason for me to enter the palace. Her threats and insults meant nothing to me. I grabbed her hair. Every extra word she uttered was met with a stronger tug on her scalp. “If you don’t bring me to the palace, I will tell the whole world what we did today! I’ll tell them how you begged and cried. And don’t think of killing me to silence me. Even if the Beaumonts abandoned me, they won’t simply ignore my death.” At my words, Charlotte’s face contorted in fear. She dissolved into tears, cursing me: “You maniac! You’ll rot in hell!” I thought she was a pot calling the kettle black. “Charlotte Beaumont, have you forgotten your past cruelties against me? Who was it that scorned my body from childhood, calling me a monster, driving me to self-loathing and despair? Who drugged me to make me simple-minded, and encouraged our parents to lock me away in this dark room? Wasn’t it all you? Have you not wronged me enough?” I flung these accusations at her, relentless. Charlotte recoiled, trembling, unable to utter a single word, merely staring at me with wide, terrified eyes. Seeing her disheveled and bruised, I finally felt a measure of vindication. “Take me to the palace, or we will both be destroyed. You choose.” In the royal carriage on the way back to the palace, Charlotte huddled beside me, trembling, softly pleading. “I’ve agreed to take you back to the palace. You mustn’t betray me and speak of those… unpleasant things. Please, I beg you.” My expression remained impassive. “Depends on your performance.” One sentence silenced Charlotte completely. Upon entering the palace, I smoothly met King Lysander in her chambers. The moment our eyes met, his were filled with a mixture of awe and delight. “Queen Consort, who is this? How can someone rival your breathtaking beauty?” I feigned a gentle, demure demeanor and lied that I was her distant cousin. All the while, King Lysander’s gaze remained fixed on me, completely disregarding Charlotte. Soon, Charlotte sensed the shift in attention and secretly warned me to behave. But I paid her no mind, immediately setting about charming King Lysander. “Your Majesty, perhaps you would grace the Clouded Pavilion tonight? Your humble servant promises you a delightful surprise.” Upon hearing this, King Lysander’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. That evening, I donned the most exquisitely crafted gown from Charlotte’s chambers and made my way to the Clouded Pavilion. Before long, a slightly tipsy King Lysander arrived. The moment he saw me, he wrapped his arms around my waist without a word, pulling me close. I leaned into him, feigning a gentle resistance. “Your Majesty, will you stay here tonight?” His kiss, smelling faintly of wine, descended upon me. His low voice rumbled, “My darling Celeste, since I’ve come tonight, I have no intention of leaving. But… where is this surprise you promised?” His tone was laced with seductive suggestion, and I, in turn, fixed him with an even more alluring gaze. “That, Your Majesty, you must uncover yourself in my chambers. Otherwise, where would the surprise be?” No sooner had the words left my lips than King Lysander swept me into his arms. He carried me swiftly to the bed, his movements eager. In the dim lamplight, I revealed myself completely, holding nothing back. When King Lysander saw what lay before him, his hands visibly trembled. “You… you are a man?” I smiled, pinching his chin playfully, and teased, “Your Majesty, you didn’t look closely enough. Take another look. I am, of course, a woman. But I can also be a man.” King Lysander’s eyes widened in disbelief, his gaze fixed on my unique anatomy. Soon, he visibly swallowed, his eyes now holding a hint of longing and even envy. I smiled, knowing the fish had taken the bait. It seemed the whispers about the King’s preference for men were indeed true. So I leaned close to his ear, whispering softly to provoke him: “Does Your Majesty approve?” His eager movements and a torrent of kisses were his only reply. That night, the bed curtains swayed gently, and the red candles flickered in the dancing shadows. But by the latter half of the night, his stamina clearly waned, bringing an end to the night’s debauchery. As I was about to close my eyes for sleep, I suddenly heard him lean in close, his voice a low, panting whisper: “Celeste, would you… would you like to be on top?” The air stilled for a moment. Hearing his words, my eyes snapped open, fixed unblinkingly on him. On the surface, he was asking if I wanted to take the dominant position, but implicitly, it revealed King Lysander’s desire to be the submissive one. He actually wanted to be the one beneath? My heart jolted with shock, yet I maintained a calm facade. “Does Your Majesty wish for it?” I countered.
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