[If three or more people doubt a death, that soul shall be saved.]
Betrayed by my uncle and the lover I trusted, I stood before the guillotine.
Even in death, I swore I would have my revenge on my enemies, and I sharpened my blade.
“I, Cassion Lichte Petrora, cannot accept Diana’s death.”
My head was cut off, and when I opened my eyes, I was thirteen again.
I wept tears of joy, and I made a vow.
“The revenge I meant to take in hell, I’ll carry out in this life.”
~
All I had was money. What I lacked was people.
So I gathered some people with my money…
“Let’s poison him. (cough) You’re rich, so you can clean up afterwards, right?”
Said the sickly prince, twisted through and through.
“You’ll really get me a corpse? May I cut it open?”
Said the genius doctor, mad for anatomy.
“Just give me information. Then I’ll do anything for you.”
Said my aunt Cho, the information broker, who has no justice or conscience where information is concerned.
“Be my disciple.”
Said the best con artist on the continent, who wanted to take me on as his apprentice.
Somehow, I had gathered nothing but people who reeked of villainy.
I will be able to become head of the house and take my revenge, won’t I?
