The Lady Nun Vows Revenge - Chapter 1: Chapter 1

A sharp, mocking voice dripped through the dim chamber like poison. "Well, well, what's the matter, sis? Not gonna eat? Come on, don't be shy now."
Eliza Stonor lay sprawled across the cold stone floor, bloody and bruised, barely breathing. Iron chains clinked softly as she shifted—every weak movement met with resistance.
They looped tight around her neck and limbs, keeping her pinned like a caged beast.
Across from her stood Sophie Stonor, dressed in a cheerful butter-yellow gown that felt almost obscene in the gloomy room.
She held a bowl of dog food, swaying it lightly in her hands, grinning as if she were teasing a pet instead of tormenting her own sister.
Sophie clicked her tongue in exaggerated disappointment, then turned to the maid behind her. "God, look at her. She can't even play dead right, let alone act like a proper mutt. And I'm feeding her myself—what more does she want?"
The maid didn't hesitate. She stepped forward and landed a vicious kick to Eliza's side. A choked grunt slipped from Eliza's lips.
Sucking up, the maid added with a sneer, "My lady, don't waste your time. This bitch probably still thinks she's the Duke's precious little princess. Dreaming of silks and titles while lying in her own filth."
Sophie let out a cold laugh, the sound sharp enough to cut glass. "Eliza Stonor? Princess? Please. Even Father and the boys won't acknowledge her anymore. Being my lapdog is the best she'll ever be. She should be thanking me.
"But no. She just doesn't know what's good for her."
Sophie ground her heel into Eliza's hand. A sickening crack echoed in the room, followed by a muffled whimper.
Sophie leaned down, voice low and deadly. "One last chance, Eliza. Hand over the pendant."
Eliza's vision blurred, but a faint, bitter smile tugged at her lips. "Yeah, in your dreams..."
That pendant was the last piece of Sophie's mother—the only thing that kept her tied to a love lost forever. She'd rather die than let Sophie get her hands on it.
"You stubborn bitch!" Sophie snapped, eyes blazing. "You really wanna die that bad?!"
At that moment, the chamber door flew open with a deafening bang. Several figures rushed in, their shadows cutting across the floor like blades.
Panic flashed in Sophie's eyes as she turned to see who was coming. She then shoved the bowl into the maid's hands, who whisked it away in a flash.
And just like that, Sophie's face morphed into a picture of innocence.
She bounced forward, voice syrupy sweet. "Father! Brothers! What's the occasion?"
The newcomers were none other than Gabriel Stonor, Duke of Mowbay of Bortenland, and his four sons.
The Duke—tall, broad, and commanding—had the air of a man used to calling the shots.
His sons, each one cut from the same cloth, were strikingly handsome and carried themselves with an aristocratic ease that demanded attention.
Some looked cold, some a bit wicked, but the moment Sophie spoke in that soft, sugary tone, even the harshest among them softened, their faces warming as they looked at her.
Dylan Stonor, the second eldest, barely glanced at Eliza's crumpled form before turning to Sophie. "So, Sophie—did she give it back yet? The pendant?"
'It wasn't stolen! I didn't steal it! It's mine!' Eliza wanted to scream, to make them understand, but the words remained trapped inside her.
"No." Sophie let out a long, weary sigh, her voice soft but brimming with heartache.
Her eyes turned misty as she whispered, "Eliza, she knew how much that pendant meant to me. It's all I have left of Mom. The only thing that's still hers.
"I begged her, over and over, but she just wouldn't give it back. I've tried everything. Honestly, I don't know what else to do..."
Her voice wavered at the end, catching in her throat. Tears threatened to spill, and the weight of her pain hung thick in the air.
Dylan clenched his fists. The sorrow in Sophie's voice hit him like a punch to the gut.
"Eliza Stonor," he said sharply, fury barely contained beneath the surface. "I can't even begin to describe how disappointed I am in you."
At the doorway, the third eldest, Matthew Stonor, narrowed his eyes, the shadows sharpening across his face.
In one swift, fluid motion, cold steel flashed in his hand as his blade slid free. "You've got some damn nerve. You really think we're just gonna stand around and let you screw with us?
"If you're not gonna talk, I'll start cutting. One hand for the first question. Still stubborn? Then the feet go next. You stole from Sophie—I wanna see if your bones are as damn tough as your attitude."
"That's enough." The eldest brother, Benedict Stonor, spoke with a voice that sliced through the tension, calm and authoritative. "Someone saw her. Right before she was dragged back, she panicked... and swallowed something."
Eliza froze. A flicker of fear crossed her face, just for a moment—but it was enough. Her eyes darted to the side. She was caught.
Realization dawned across the brothers' faces.
"You swallowed it?!" Dylan shouted, eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you insane? You'd rather swallow the pendant than give it back to Sophie?!"
Eliza let out a dry, almost crazy laugh. Her eyes lit up with a dangerous spark. "Yep! I'm crazy! What other choice did I have?"
"Sophie ruined everything—my name, my future—and now she wants to take the last thing Mother left me? Why the hell shouldn't I destroy it?!"
She yanked hard against the iron chains around her wrists, the harsh clang echoing in the small chamber like a scream. "You want the pendant? Fine. You've got two choices: let it go... or cut me open and take it yourselves!"
A heavy silence settled in. Faces turned grim. Even Anthony Stonor, the fourth brother, who was usually as cold as stone, looked rattled.
Slowly, all eyes shifted to one man: Gabriel Stonor—their father. The Duke. The only one who could call the shots.
Sophie's voice broke the stillness, soft but full of pain. "Father... I miss Mom."
In that moment, Eliza caught it—a shift in Gabriel's expression, a crack in his stoic mask. He hesitated.
And just like that, she knew. She'd lost.
Gabriel closed his eyes and let out a long, tired sigh. "Eliza... Don't take it out on your brothers. If anyone's to blame, it's me."
His voice faltered, rough with regret. "If there's an afterlife... and you're born as my daughter once more—" He paused, his words catching in his throat. "I swear, I'll make it right. I won't fail you again."
Eliza let out a bitter laugh, her lips curling into a twisted smile, tears and blood mingling as they ran down her cheeks.
"Never again," she hissed, her voice raw with pain and defiance. "If there's another chance... I'd rather be anyone—anyone—than your daughter!"
And as the cold blade sliced through her abdomen, her last breath left her in silence. The pendant—buried deep inside her—suddenly lit up, glowing with a fierce, radiant light, as if her final breath had sparked something eternal within it.
The Kingdom of Bortenland, in the 76th year of its reign.
A warm breeze floated through the sprawling halls of the Duke of Mowbay's estate, carrying with it the scent of jasmine and the faint buzz of excitement.
Today, the usually composed household was alive with activity. All of Hasen City knew that the Duke's two daughters were to celebrate their coming-of-age ceremony—an event the capital had been whispering about for weeks.
Far from the hustle and bustle, deep inside the inner chambers, a girl, barely fifteen, whimpered in her sleep, "No... please, don't..." She was clearly having a nightmare.
Eliza tossed and turned under the covers, her voice barely audible, full of fear.
Suddenly, she shot upright with a gasp, terror etched across her face. "Ah—!"
Arms wrapped tightly around herself, she sat frozen, waiting for the pain that had haunted her dreams. But nothing came. No sharp stab in her stomach. No suffocating darkness. No chains. Just... silence.
It took a long moment before she could catch her breath again. Then, she opened her eyes catiously.
This wasn't that place. The cold, blood-slicked chamber was gone. Her father, her brothers, her sister Sophie—nowhere to be seen.
Instead, the room around her was calm, bathed in warm, golden light. The furniture, the curtains, the scent of camellias—it all felt so familiar. And yet, it seemed strangely distant, like a memory she hadn't revisited in years.
She blinked again, heart racing. "This is... my old room?" she murmured, her voice thin, almost childlike.
A wave of bittersweet memories hit her—days when she'd been the pampered heiress of the Stonor family, loved and protected.
"No," she whispered. "No, this can't be right."
Panic clawed its way into her throat. Eliza flung off the covers and staggered to her feet—but her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor.
"What the hell is going on?!" Her voice cracked. "Why am I back here?!"
She crawled toward the door, fingers scrambling over polished wood. 'I have to get out. I can't let them see me—not Father, not Benedict... God knows what they'd do to me.'
Knock, knock—
A sharp rap on the door stopped her cold.
"Lady Eliza," came a brisk voice from the other side. A maid's tone—sharp and clearly unimpressed. "Planning to sleep the day away?
"It's your coming-of-age ceremony today—yours and Lady Sophie's. Don't say I didn't warn you if you're late."
Eliza's breath caught. Her hand, which had been reaching for the door, jerked back as if she'd touched something burning.
The maid's words echoed in her ears.
She sat there on the cold floor, staring at nothing. "Coming-of-age?" she repeated, her voice hollow, her mind reeling.