Chapter 1
A groan escaped my lips before my eyes even fluttered open. My heads throbbed. Did I actually got to that club and get hit by a truck? Was truck-kun my fate after all?
But there wad no smell of vodka or cheap perfume.Just… roses. And dust. And something faintly mildewy.
My eyes snapped open. The canopy above me was a lavish, deep purple velvet. Definitely not IKEA.
“I am going crazy” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I said I was going to a club, and now I am dreaming about a Rofan?”
Logic dictated the next step. I pinched the soft skin of my forearms, hard. A sharp jolt of pain made me yelp. “Okay” I breathed, my heart beginning to hammer against my ribs. “Not a dream at all”
I scrambled out of the massive bed, my feet sinking into a plush rug. My body felt foreign—lighter, weaker. I stumbled towards an ornate gold mirror perched on a dressing table, just like a hundred Rofan heroines before me.
The face staring back was pale with sharp features. A cascade of long, soft red hair framed features that were delicate and utterly unfamiliar. Her eyes—my eyes—were as green as fresh cut grass. I was wearing a cheap, scratchy nightgown that looked like it was made from burlap and disappointment.
“This is not what I wanted”, I told my reflection, a hysterical laugh bubbling in my throat. “Okay, Julia, breathe. Maybe it’s a super lucid dream. Everything’s going to be okay”.
The door flew open with a bang that made me jump. A maid stood there, her expression a mark of pure contempt. In her hands was a ceramic basin. Without a word, she hurled it’s contents straight at me.
I gasped as icy, grimy water soaked through my nightgown, dripping onto the rug. It smelled faintly of soap and… other people. Used bathwater. My shock quickly curdled into anger.
“This is your morning bath, my lady,” the maid said, a nasty smirk twisting her lips. She turned on her heels and left, slamming the door behind her and leaving me standing there, shivering and humiliated.
“Okay, think,” I hissed to myself, wiping dirty water from my eyes “Which character am I? Is it Penelope?” I looked at the redhead in the mirror again. “No, her hair was purple. Then… oh! I know! Edith Rigelhof? I think she looked approximately the same”.
But what was her story? I racked my brain, the panic rising like a tide. She was… she was…. “I don’t remember” I sighed in defeat, slumping to the floor. The cold from the wet rug seeped into my skin. I could feel everything this body felt. The failure was so complete it was almost funny. “It seems like even my attempt to change my life was a failure”.
The door burst open again. This time, a man filled the doorway? He was in his early forties, with the same fiery red hair as my new body and a muscular build that screamed authority. His dace was flushed with anger.
“What tricks are you planning this time, Seraphina Montclair?!” He boomed, his voice shaking the crystals on the chandelier. “You’re still lazing in your bedchamber when I gave explicit orders for you to report to my office immediately!”
I just stared, my eyebrows shooting up towards my hairline. Seraphina Montclair? The name echoed in my mind, sparking no recognition, no handily plot summary. Nothing.
Oh no, I thought, my blood running cold as the man’s heavy footsteps faded down the hall. I got the character wrong. Spectacularly wrong.
The slam of the door was a clear message: I was to present myself in his office, and I was to do it now. A fresh wave of panic washed over me? Where was I exactly? What kind of story was this? A thriller? A horror? What if someone was planning to kill the original Seraphina, and now me by extension?
My mind spun out a dozen terrifying scenarios, each more gruesome than the last. But getting decapitated for tardiness seemed like a particularly stupid way to go. I am only twenty or I was..? I had to get back to my world, boring and lonely as it was. At least it was peaceful and I had a loving family.
Swallowing my fear, I stumbled to the wardrobe and yanked it open. My jaw dropped. Inside hung a collection of breathtakingly luxurious dresses, each more elaborate than the last. Silk, velvet, and satin gowns were adorned with intricate embroidery, delicate pearls, and what looked like real gold threads. It was a stark confusing contrast to the scratchy burlap nightgown I was still shivering in.
I grabbed the simplest one I could find— a dark blue day dress with fewer obvious jewels. It was still impossibly heavy in my arms.
“Good grief,”’ I muttered, heaving it up. “How did anyone fight off a villain or seduce a duke in a fifty pounds dress?”
The real battle began when I tried to put it on. I struggled, twisting and turning, completely baffled by the labyrinth of laced, hooks and layers. Which hole was for an arm? Where did my legs even go? I desperately wanted got call for help, but the memory of the maid’s contemptuous smirk and the dirty bathwater stopped me. No, I would figure this out myself. I had to.
“Why do these novels never include a manual on how to dress yourself?” I grumbled to the empty room, still wresting with the damned gown. After a comical battle involving tangled laces and misplaces sleeves, I’d finally manage to encase myself in the heavy fabric. It was lopsided and probably inside-out, but it was on. The clock was ticking; I could almost feel that man’s impatience radiations through the manor.
I burst out of the room and spotted a maid dusting a vase in the hallway. Perfect. Summoning every haughty entitlement I’d read about? I pointed a finger, my voice sharp with a comment I didn’t feel.
“You! Take me to the office. Now!”
The maud paused her work. Slowly, she turned her head. Her eyes, cold and utterly bored, slid over me from head to toe. There was no respect, no fear—only a flicker of pure disdain as she took in my poorly fastened dress. A silent, judgemental sneer curled her lip for a fraction of a second before she turned her back to me, resuming her dusting as if I were nothing more than a mildly irritating draft.
The dismissal was so absolute, so insulting, it stole the air from my lungs. I wasn’t just a lady to be ignored; I was a ghost.
I guess I should figure this out myself.
Deciding to just walk until someone noticed me—or until I stumbled upon the man’s office— I set off. But the mansion was a labyrinth. Grand staircases spiraled in every direction, and endless hallways lined with identical portraits offered no clues. I was completely lost.
Suddenly a dignified old man in an impeccably tailored suit approached me. He had the air of a head butler. He stopped and gave a shallow, perfunctory box.
“My lady,” he said, his voice neutral yet devoid of warmth. “Duke Montclair is waiting for you. Please follow me.”
I trailed behind him in silence, my mind churning. Duke Montclair? Why does none of this name remind me anything? We finally stopped before a set of towering oak doors. The butler opened one and gestured for me to enter alone.
The room was an office, vast and imposing. Behind a massive mahogany desk sat the man from my room—the Duke. And standing rigidly beside him was a young man with the same fiery hair and a cold, handsome face. The son.
Remembering my Rofan novels, I knew I had to be formal. I dipped into what I hoped was passable curtsy.
“Greeting, Your Gr—“
He immediately cut me off, slamming his hand on the desk. “Why are you suddenly so polite?” He snarled, his eyes blazing with fury. “I have heard you tried to poison my wife! Though she is your stepmother, she has always cared for you and your brothers as if you were her owns!”
The accusations hit me like a physical blow. Poison? My modern mind reeled. This wasn’t a simple romance; this was a murder mystery, and I was the prime suspect. The weight of the revelation, the confusion—it all crashed down at once. The room began to swim, the faces of the Duke and his son blurring into streaks of colour. The world tilted, and everything went black.
——
I came to my sensed surrounded by the scent of old paper and leather. I was in a vast library; still trapped in Seraphina’s body. The Duke’s office was gone.
And I was not alone.
A figure materialised before me—a majestic, terrifying blend of human and dragon, with iridescent scales and intelligent eyes. Yet, it left no immediate threat, only a strange, ancient energy.
“Are you the one who brought me here?” I asked, my voice a shaky whisper.
The creature shifted, its form dissolving and reforming into that of a tall man. He had pale, almost translucent skin, hair as white as fresh snow, and piercing crimson eyes that seemed to see right through me.
“Lady Seraphina,” he said, his voice sharp, melodic chill. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. It appears we have found a soul whose resonance matches this vessel’s… potential. The original owner of this body wished for vengeance upon her death. We deemed you the perfect candidate, as you were the sole reader dedicated enough to complete the story of this world. Even though the end you know it’s different from the end that people of this world had.”
“Me?” I chocked out, disbelief overriding my fear. “I never signed up to be someone else’s avenger! I don’t even know which novel this is! I just read for fun, so just find someone else to take this body and let me go back to my world.”
The mystic creature didn’t seem to flicker, a hint of impatience in its glowing red eyes.
“The transaction is complete. Your consciousness for hers. There is no ‘someone else’. You are Seraphina Montclair now.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” I demanded, my voice cracking. “You can’t just drop me here accused of poisoning a woman I’ve never met!”
“You will learn,” it said, its voice a low hum that vibrated in my very bones. “Fragments of her life, her memories… they will come to you. They are your only guide. Succeed in her final wish, and you may earn your freedom.”
A memory? What does that—
A searing, white-hot pain lanced through my skull. I cried out, staggering backward as a vision violently forced its way into my mind.
It wasn’t my thoughts. It was hers. A memory, raw and agonizing.
The woman face was soft, framed by blazing pink hair. She smiled sweetly, her sea-blue eyes crinkling at the corners as she adjusted the sleeve of my dress for the court physician. Her touch was gentle, a mother’s touch
But then, her finger dug into the tender skin of my inner arm, twisting viciously where no one could see. The smile never left her face.
“Tell them,” She whispered, her voice honey-sweet, “and the next time, it will be your eye. They will never believe you over me, you vile little creature.”
The vision vanished as suddenly as it arrived, leaving me gasping on the library floor, the phantom pain still echoing on Seraphina’s skin. I looked up at the creature, my horror remained reflected in its crimson gaze.
It tilted its head. “Ah. It begins. Now you see the face of the woman you are accused of poisoning. Your kind stepmother.”
Its form began to dissolve into shimmering mist.
“Use the power I grant you well, Lady Seraphina. The white flames are all you have left. You will need them.”
“Wait! I can’t stay here, bring me back I can’t do it,” I screamed trying to stop it.
As its voice faded, so did my consciousness, the world spinning away into a merciful blackness, the woman’s cruel smile the last thing burned behind my eyes
Sawlyy
Thank you everyone for reading my story! Please give me some feedbacks I need to know your opinions!