Seraphine felt a small relief as the noble crowd drifted further away after her confrontation. She still lingered near the marble column, swirling her wine, letting the taste anchor her. Her heart beat fast, a mix of triumph and anxiety. She wished she could slip away quietly, but the room still held the curious eyes of the remaining guests.

–I bet they want to see me making a scene, lashing out like a monkey for their amusement. As if I’m a show to watch.

She chuckled slightly in annoyance. She glared at her empty glass, wishing she could go somewhere quiet to think things through. Everything is giving her a headache now.

She glanced at Lucien, wondering if he could escort her home. It was not like she knew the way anyways.

Then–

“Sera!”

The voice was light and high, like the chime of a bell. Mina, or rather Seraphine now, turned toward it and almost blinked in surprise at the sight before her.

Seraphine froze. The nickname fell from the girl’s lips with such casual ease, as if it had always belonged to her. Seraphine could only guess they must be close, close enough that even in public she dared to shorten her name.

–Damn it.

She had no clue who she was. This could lead to a disaster.

A young woman glided toward her, skirts of pastel blue chiffon brushing the polished floor. As she hurried across the ballroom, weaving between nobles who quickly gave way. Her hair was the softest shade of pink, airy and fluffy, like spun sugar, gathered with a pastel blue ribbon. Her hair bounced with each step in gentle curls. Wide, pale blue eyes shone with childlike warmth, their hue like spring skies washed with dawn. Her face bloomed with such genuine affection that the room itself seemed to soften in her presence. Smiles softened, murmurs turned to fond sighs.

“Oh, Lady Evelina!” someone gasped in pleasant surprise.

“How curious she’s friends with Lady Seraphine, of all people…” someone else whispered in disdain.

“It must be out of pity, she is always sweet to everyone,” another woman sighed out of admiration, worry and pity towards her.

If Evelina heard them, she only gave them nods with a smile as a greeting. She only smiled, a smile so warm it could thaw ice, and drifted forward as though guided by nothing but affection. No one said anything bad but accepted her quick greeting, as if their ice cold hearts were molten away and forgave her rudeness right away.

–Cotton candy…

Seraphine thought fleetingly, almost dazed. She has a total vibe of a cotton candy, or maybe even a happy Samoyed puppy. She noticed that people’s expressions seem to have softened when they look at her. The whole tension from before disappeared like cotton candy in water.

Could she be the original protagonist? The typical sweet girl that everyone loves? Or is she the type that only pretends to be sweet? There have been so many stories that she read which could go either way. For now, she would just pretend, go along with the flow, be cautious and observe.

The girl reached her and stopped only once she was directly between Seraphine and Lucien. She turned first to him, dipping into a graceful curtsy.

“Lord Lucien,” she greeted, voice as delicate as lace. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“Likewise, lady Evelina” Lucien said, his voice gentle, carrying the same politeness he had shown to every noble present.

Evelina Rosenthal.

The name surfaced in Seraphine’s mind like another piercing sting in her head. Just when would she be free from those headaches?

Evelina’s name was familiar only because of its weight. Seraphine felt the memory stir in the body she now wore, though faint and blurred. Evelina Rosenthal was the daughter of one of her father’s closest allies and younger sister to her first fiancé. And yet, to the current Seraphine, she was nothing more than a stranger. She was a stranger who looked at Seraphine with eyes full of fondness and warmth when their eyes met each other before, as if the years between them were already written.

Evelina turned back to her, attention falling wholly and unashamedly on Seraphine, as though Lucien no longer existed. She closed the last steps between them, her skirts brushing Seraphine’s as she leaned in closer to her.

To deny her would be dangerous. So Seraphine forced her lips into a faint curve, as if acknowledging an old friend.

“Oh, Sera,” Evelina breathed. Her hand lifted, hovering near Seraphine’s wrist, but at the last moment she tucked it back against her fan, as though shy. “I was so worried when I didn’t see you.”

Evelina leaned even closer, her fan lifting, painted with delicate blossoms. Behind its shelter, her words softened into intimacy meant for Seraphine’s ears alone.

“I am so glad you came tonight, Sera,” she whispered. Her blue eyes glistened with tender relief. “You’ve locked yourself away for weeks, and I have been terribly worried. Your father told me you had been unwell, but–”

She hesitated, her smile deepening with tender promise, “I know you Sera… You may not want to confide in me yet, however if there is anything you need… a shoulder to cry on, or simply a way to ease your burdens. You can count on me again.”

The fan lowered just slightly, revealing her warmest smile yet. A smile so loving, so achingly sincere, the kind of smile that melted every barrier, warm enough to thaw winter. To anyone watching, she was the perfect image of a devoted friend, unfailingly kind, unfailingly true. Maybe someone who is fitting to be the true heroine.

Seraphine almost fell for her sweet smile, but she knew she had to be wary and can’t trust anyone. She had no clue yet what kind of story this was. What if it was a fake romance story and actually a horror story? She couldn’t be sure of anything yet.

Then, almost as an afterthought, Evelina sighed softly. “Sometimes I wondered if you’d forgotten me.” Her eyes flickered, fleetingly sad, though her lips stayed sweet. “But I told myself that you’re not one to abandon your best friend. There must be a reason, I know you’ve been suffering and having a hard time moving on ever since the death of my brother.”

The fan still lowered just enough to reveal her radiant, sympathetic smile, the kind of smile that showed she knew exactly what Seraphine was going through. Yet, she didn’t know what she was going through now.

Seraphine could only stare. Her mind scrambled to stitch the pieces together. Childhood friends, perhaps? The nickname, the closeness, the ease in which Evelina spoke. Not to mention the mention of her brother, who was the first fiancé out of the three, so that meant they might have been engaged early on. That had to be the explanation.

Still, she could not help but feel it. Evelina looked like the true heroine of this story, the one who would have been chosen had fate turned even slightly different. Sweet, radiant, adored.

It was almost enough to make her doubt who truly belonged in the center of this world.

Almost.

Evelina tilted her head, curls swaying. “You look pale. You’ve been awfully quiet too… You must be tired, Sera. Why don’t we step into the dressing room for a moment? Just the two of us. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you.”

Something in her eyes lingered too long, too deep. Seraphine’s stomach tightened, though she didn’t know why. Evelina’s smile was flawless, yet it left a strange chill at the base of her spine.

Side by side, Evelina and Seraphine could not have been more different. Evelina glowed like spring, pastels, sweetness, a living emblem of innocence. While Seraphine burned like autumn’s last ember, her crimson hair catching the light, her eyes like crystal caught in firelight. Not only were their personalities totally opposite from each other, even though they have similar color palettes, they are a total contrast to each other. It was like it was destined that one was soft and gentle, while the other was more vivid and fierce. That was quite suspicious.

Before she could answer, a stir rippled through the hall. The grand doors slammed open, and a knight in the Du Fane colors rushed in, armor clinking, his voice urgent.

“Grand Duke Edmund du Fane!”

The music halted. Guests froze mid-step.

A middle-aged man, maybe around his forties, with brushed back dark crimson hair and cool-toned violet with blueish undertone eyes, whipped up from his circle of peers. His expression was first shock, then annoyance because of the rudeness of the knight, but then he realized this had to be urgent so something happened, which led to his face paling.

The knight bowed sharply, then spoke fast, “Your Grace, it is the duchess. The time has come…she is giving birth!”

Gasps fluttered through the hall. Too soon, Seraphine thought, remembering for some reason that this body’s mother wasn’t due yet.

Her father’s reaction was instant. He strode forward, every trace of courtly grace cast aside. “What? Tonight? She wasn’t expected–”

His voice broke, urgency sharpening his words. “Prepare the horses. Now.”

The knight bowed again. “Already waiting, Your Grace. I brought an extra mount.”

The grand duke didn’t hesitate. “Good. Then I ride at once. Seraphine must be told as well. She is to return home immediately.” He turned to the guard by the door, his command sharp as steel. “You will deliver my apologies to his highness. Say I had no choice. I will write a letter to inform him later.”

And without waiting for a response, Edmund du Fane swept from the hall, already moving as though every heartbeat carried him closer to his wife.

Seraphine’s breath caught. For the first time since she had arrived in this world, she saw not a powerful, distant noble but a desperate husband, a man who loved fiercely and feared losing it all.

The knight’s eyes found her. “Lady Seraphine, your presence is required. Please, make haste.”

A wash of relief flooded her. Finally, she could escape the eyes, the whispers, the suffocating air of the ballroom. She gathered her skirts and moved quickly toward the knight, not caring how ungraceful she might look. However–

Evelina’s fingers brushed lightly against her sleeve, halting her. “Sera,” she whispered, her voice brushed against her ears like silk, “let me come with you. You should not face this alone. I can stay by your side until morning, if you need me.”

Seraphine pulled free, gentle but firm.

Something about Evelina didn’t sit right with her. She couldn’t tell yet if it was the stolen air of a heroine that clung to her, or the sharper fear that Evelina might notice too much and catch every strange seam in her act. She turned, slipping her hand around Lucien’s arm instead, her voice softened with a trace of guilt.

“I’m sorry, but it’s Lord Lucien’s duty as my fiancé to escort me home. This is not the time for a sleepover, Evelina. I cannot have you see us in such chaos. This is a family matter. Don’t worry, Lord Lucien will also leave after he safely escorted me home. You understand, don’t you?”

Evelina’s lashes dipped, hiding her eyes. For one small, sharp instant, her face seemed to shadow, lips parting as if she might protest. But when she lifted her head again, her smile gleamed bright as ever, flawless as porcelain.

“Of course,” Evelina said sweetly. “So thoughtless of me. You are right, Sera. I only wanted to help, but it would be improper to intrude.” She dipped into a graceful curtsy, her skirts blooming like the petals of a flower, as she bid her goodbye to the couple. “Please, travel safely. It’s a cruel night to ride, but I’ll be waiting to see you again soon.”

Her tone was light, warm, and sincere. Yet the words clung like frost to Seraphine’s skin. She wouldn’t know how to behave around her. This time she had an excuse, but how about the next? For some reason she seemed more nervous around her than Lucien.

Seraphine inclined her head, unwilling to linger, and turned away. At the far end of the hall, her father rushed forward, urgency driving him like a storm. His dark crimson hair catching in the candlelight, his cool violet eyes sharpened with fear. The trim beard at his chin and mustache lent him a grave, handsome authority, though tonight his composure cracked. He looked younger in his desperation, almost vulnerable, as he barked for the horse with the desperation of a husband, not a duke.

Seraphine followed the knight, her heart thrumming fast. All that mattered now was reaching her mother. Yet Evelina’s smile stayed behind her eyes, vivid as if etched there.

And beneath that candy-pink softness, Seraphine thought she glimpsed it for a flicker, something sharp, something hungry.

She quickened her pace, the doors closing around her, the ballroom swallowed behind.

But the unease followed, clinging like a shadow. Her pulse quickened, she became restless and more fearful for no reason she could name, almost giving her a panic attack. Her mind told her she was finally safe and free, yet her body recoiled as if it already knew otherwise. As if it remembered a nightmare she had not yet lived.