The scent of jasmine clung to the air—sweet, sharp, dizzying.
Golden sunlight spilled through sheer curtains. Velvet sheets whispered under her fingers, too smooth. Her skin—too pale. Her limbs—too still.
This wasn't her bed.
This wasn't her body.
Sera's eyes snapped open. Her breath hitched, a tight, panicked sound.
Where… was she?
She pushed herself upright, and pain slammed into her skull like lightning. Her vision cracked in half. She gasped, gripping the blankets like they might anchor her to reality.
Her thoughts scrambled for meaning.
The book.
That black leather thing with no title, just thick pages of strange ink and whispering symbols. She had opened it on the train. Just once.
And then—this.
Was this a dream?
Had the book… devoured her?
A voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts.
"Lady Sher, you're awake!"
A woman in a nurse's uniform rushed to her side, brown eyes wide with relief, her voice too warm for how cold Sera felt.
"Thank the gods. You've been unconscious for two days."
Sera blinked, trying to focus. "Lady… Sher?"
The name rang foreign. Wrong.
"I'm Eliya. Your personal nurse. I'll fetch the Duke and the young master—"
"Wait!" Sera gripped the edge of the blanket. "What's happening? Where am I?"
But Eliya had already disappeared, footsteps fading down what sounded like a long marble corridor.
Sera's heart slammed in her chest.
Sher?
She looked around, then toward the ornate mirror on the wall.
The face that stared back wasn't hers.
Pale skin. Crimson-rimmed eyes. Wavy dark hair spilling across silk pillows.
She touched her face.
The stranger did too.
This isn't me.
No doubt now.
> That cursed book… it didn't just transport me.
It replaced me.
But why this body? Why this woman?
What had she stepped into?
---
The heavy doors opened with a slow, echoing creak.
A man strode in—military coat over broad shoulders, dark boots striking the marble like thunder. He moved with the weight of command, the coldness of war in his eyes.
The room stilled around him.
"So… you've decided to wake up," he said, curt and measured.
Behind him, a bespectacled man—probably a doctor—stepped forward but hesitated.
"Your Grace… she may need rest—"
"I didn't ask for your opinion," the man snapped, never breaking stride.
He stopped at her bedside, towering above her, gaze like a knife.
"Are you ready to speak again, Sher? Or do we continue this game of silence?"
Sher. Again.
Sera blinked, heart pounding. Her mind reeled, but her mouth moved on instinct.
"...Who are you again?"
Gasps rippled through the room.
Even the doctor froze mid-motion.
"You're joking," the man said, voice lowering into something dangerous.
He stepped in closer. Too close.
"You've forgotten your husband?"
Sera flinched. Husband?
A maid behind him whispered, "She's never called him anything but 'you' or 'get out.'"
The doctor frowned. "Could be memory trauma… though physically, her injuries were minimal."
Still stunned, Sera didn't look away.
> So he's her husband?
His face was cut from ice, but there was something else—tension—in the tight line of his jaw. A flicker of hesitation behind the steel.
Was he always this cold?
Or had Sher made him this way?
Either way… this wasn't a healthy marriage.
And more importantly—was he part of whatever cursed fate the book had dragged her into?
---
Another figure stepped forward—a tall, reserved woman with sharp eyes and a professional air.
"My lady," she said gently, "this is Duke Cassian Verrien Darevell."
She hesitated a beat longer.
"And your son—Karthius—is at the estate. He's five."
A son?
Sera's stomach dropped.
She had a child?
The woman's tone softened. "Would you… like to see him?"
Sera's throat tightened.
A child who had just lost his mother… because of her.
He didn't ask for this.
He didn't deserve it.
"Yes," she whispered. "I want to see him."
Silence again. Even heavier this time.
"She said yes?" Eliya blinked like she couldn't believe it.
Cassian's gaze lingered on her face. His mouth twitched—something close to a reaction, then buried again beneath command.
"…How convenient," he muttered. Then, louder: "Bring him."
---
Sera stared at the door after he left, trying to quiet the pounding in her chest.
Why had they all reacted like that?
What kind of woman had Sher been?
And what kind of legacy had she left behind?
---
[Hallway – Moments Later]
A small boy sat quietly on a bench, silver-blonde curls haloing his head. He clutched a wooden lion in his lap.
"Young Master," a maid whispered, "your mother has asked for you."
He flinched.
Then slowly stood.
---
[Back in the Bedroom]
The boy entered the room, eyes lowered. Small. Still. Fragile.
"I'm sorry," he said in a soft voice.
"I just came once to see… because you weren't opening your eyes. I won't come near your room again."
His voice cracked halfway through. Like he expected to be punished.
Sera felt her heart twist.
She saw it instantly—too easily. That fear. That distance.
She'd seen children like this before.
Ones who'd been rejected long before they were understood.
> This was the boy.
> The one from the story.
> The child whose mother aba
ndoned him.
> The boy who became destruction.
And now he stood here. Fragile. Real.
Her son.
She hadn't just woken into a fantasy.
She'd woken into the beginning of a tragedy.
A world on the edge of ruin.
---