Prince Noe; The Tyrant pt.1

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I was crown prince Noe. Now I am crown prince Noe with memories of a past life, triggered by my half-brother's birth.

"You wench, you're just a consort, do you think you could get in my way?! Stay in your rightful place!"

My mother backhanded the consort with her fan. I flinch not just from the unnecessary violence but also from the intense Deja Vu. I straighten myself out before anyone catches me. The consort, Madeline, is clutching her forearm. Her tears silently dripped down her face and her black hair was a little frazzled and her green dress wrinkled, accentuating how bad the hit was. Meanwhile, I stand here feeling distant.

"Crown Prince Noe, this is how you deal with roaches," My mother tells me.

This breaks me from my thoughts.

"Yes, Mother," I respond.

"Good."

The consort, Madeline, is still standing in the back. The maids come in and out to pick up the broken tea set and anything else that was damaged in my mother's rage. My mother strides gracefully past me and leaves the room, uncharacteristically leaving me.

'The birth of a new prince must have bothered her more than I thought.'

As I'm thinking this I stumble back before catching myself and just like shaking a puzzle box coincidentally everything gets put back in its place. One of the maids notices, asking me if I'm alright but I'm not paying attention. I carefully strode to the crib that has been here during this whole fiasco. Sleeping heavily inside is a baby with curls of raven hair, A familiar looking one that confirms that my regained memories were not just false. Later that night, I had time to reevaluate my identity.

I was the Crown Prince Noe. Now I am Crown Prince Noe but with the awareness of another life. Not just any life though. I'm in a fictional world, apparently.

It's hard to wrap my head around the idea of my past life being the weird one when I live in a monarchy now. I stare blankly at the ceiling of my canopy bed. Breathing harder and harder, I try getting out of my bed, as I'm stumbling out I drag the blankets in my struggle. I continue stumbling to a nearby vase and proceed to gag,

Dry heaving.

"I'm Prince Noe."

Tears dropped slightly down the corners of my eyes from the exertion. I try saying something but it comes out more as a wheeze.

"I know how I die."

I'm kneeling in the dark by a vase, trying to puke in it and this body is three. I start laughing at how ridiculous the image is to me. I stay there in that position for a couple of minutes before gradually standing up and wiping my face with my sleeves. I'm in a novel called She chose the Tyrant, and my half-brother is prevalent in this as he is the tyrant. I grimace at the idea of him being seen as one. Through his journey of being a 'tyrant', one of the obstacles he must face is Noe, Me. I guess in a convoluted way he did trigger my past life memories.

"Ugh, at least I remember," I bemoan.

I proceed to go back to my bed. My body isn't strong enough to fix the blankets so I reluctantly grab any blanket I can. I'm back to staring at the ceiling. Who cares if I die at the hands of my brother? It'll be a long way from now, I'll be what, 21? I stare at the light coming through the curtains following all the way to the moon. I don't remember how I died or who I was, but I do remember my feelings, hobbies, and certain experiences. I have a feeling I didn't regret dying in my past life, like a sense of accomplishment. Now that I think about it, regaining memories of a past life has given me more of a sense of identity for a three-year-old, not that I was a normal toddler, I am the prince. I am the prince, I sigh audibly.

"Augh, why? Why do I have to look like a cliche manhwa prince, with striking blond hair and blue eyes?" A self-deprecating laugh bled out, "I'm not cheeky enough to carry this image!"

In the novel, She chose the tyrant, the first prince Noe is a tyrant too, just like his mother and father, oppressive. Anyway, I don't think I have to worry about the actual story, I'll be dead by then. Should I be worried that I'm not worrying about my death? I mean I was already just going through the motions of life not necessarily living. My mother, the empress, is a Karen.. Or a cliche behemoth of a controlling narcissi "stic-" power-hungry person that eventually raises Noe to be just like her and is overthrown by the second prince Lore. Yes, that was a lot of describing words, to sum it up she is a cliche. I am a cliche.

"Maybe I should make this into a game, see how long I can last, go for a certain image and reputation, see if I can make it."

That's it, I'll be mean like the original! Or should I try being like the opposite, kind? So kind that it's a fault.

"You know, I don't think it really matters it was just luck that I regained these memories."

I guess it doesn't matter, I'll just do what I want, I can't be worse than a tyrant, right? I ask myself as I slowly drift to sleep.

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