For as long as I can remember, I've been a content soul.
Not ambitious. Not hardworking. Just... peacefully, patiently lazy.
If there was an easier way to do something, I'd find it. If there wasn't—well, I'd try anyway.
That's probably why I died that time.
Yep, you read that right. I died.
It was a usual starless night, empty dark streets, the kind of dark that makes you swear someone's behind you.
Everyone always said, "Don't walk home alone at night."
And I always said, "Nothing bad ever happens."
Until it did.
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I close my book and glance down from the willow branch I'd claimed as my throne.
"What are you reading now?" my little brother, Theo, calls up. "Don't you ever get bored?"
"Bored?" I jump down, brushing my skirt. "Reading takes you places. Peaceful ones."
He just shrugs — shy, sweet, utterly adorable.
"I'm researching," I add. "Trying to find an ancestor like me in our family records. Still no luck. Yet"
"Why?"
"Not sure. Maybe I just want to belong somewhere."
"But you have a place with me, right?" He takes my hand quietly, and I held tight... beaming.
"Oh I know, there's no way you'd survive without me"
" Yes exactly. Wait --n-no, that's not!" His face flushed red.
" No take backs. You said it yourself "
" Ahh! Onita!!"
We walk toward the garden's exit. The air is crisp, soft — perfect for lazy souls like me.
{Thiskid'scontagious}..
Hard to believe I used to be Tracy anymore.— a 23-year-old English teacher who died in a stupid tug-of-war with a homeless thief. Pathetic.
But that's behind me now.
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Now I'm Iris Hampton.
Reborn into wealth, nobility, and magic.
The Hamptons — my new family — are mages with silver or golden hair, and eyes of green or ember-gold. It's been that way since forever.
Father, Duke Sylvester Hampton, has crystal green eyes and silver hair. A very powerful mage.
Mother,Duchess Lauretta Hampton, elegant and kind, has none.
I have three younger siblings — the twins, Gia and Mia, masters of wind and water. And Theo, my baby brother, still waiting for his gift to awaken.
And me?
Red long wavy hair. The weakest body ever. And eyes that won't make up their mind.
Apparently, that means I'm special. The "once-in-a-century prodigy."
Yay me.
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Theo always ran ahead for breakfast, because he's picky about his food, where as I... would take all the time to reach, I'm usually last.
"Is it just me, or are your eyes looking lighter today?" Mia smirks.
"Quiet," Gia hisses. "She'll hear you."
I turn to face them both. "Oh, this? Probably just excitement from reading too much."
Mia rolls her eyes. "Sure, keep lying to yourself." She drags Gia away, muttering, "Father and Mother are waiting."
"I'll never understand that one" I muttered to myself.
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By the time I finally stroll into the dining hall, everyone's already eating—except Theo, who always saves me a seat like the cute angel he is.
"Sorry for keeping you, Did you wait long?" I flip his plate and start serving him soup.
"it's alright,You're just slow. At... everything."
Everyone freezes.
{Did this kid just insult me?Tomyface?}
"Ha... yeah," I laugh awkwardly. "Guess I am."
Mia groans. "You two make me want to gag."
"Aw, are you jealous?" teasing.
"Jealous!? You wish." Mia retorted.
Before I could throw another jab, Mother clears her throat.
"Ahem. Iris, your father has something to tell you." turns to her husband, "Darling"
Father finally looks up from his meal. "As you know, the memorial for the late Emperor and Empress is in a few days."
My stomach drops.
"I'll be occupied that day," he continues, "so I'd like you to accompany your mother in my stead."
Mother adds gently, "You don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable... but I'd love to have you there."
{Liars. That's emotional blackmail in polite language.}
"I..." I swallowed hard. "Of course, Father."
Mother beams. "It'll be a great chance to introduce you to His Highness."
{Fantastic. My death flag just got a personal invitation.}
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After breakfast, I stared blankly into my tea.
There are moments in life when everything just… clicks.
Unfortunately, mine clicked at a funeral, figures.
Fate's never been on my side, always making me a subject for dark humor.
I was eight, when everything started being too familiar to that book, it all felt too vivid—not like I've seen it before, but described to me.
I ignored the sighs so much, so hard. But it slapped me that day.
The day it all started making sense… or nonsense, depending on how you look at it.
The itch at the back of my mind, the deja vudu, the feeling that someone up there was flipping through my life like,
"Let's try again—she wasn't chaotic enough the first time"
I wasn't Iris Hampton yet. Not really.
I was still me—Tracy, professional procrastinator, certified nap enthusiast, and a proud graduate of doing the bare minimum.
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It was definitely that book. ~Poison Love~.
The worst romance novel I ever read. Period.
The kind that tried so hard to be tragic and poetic it just went right back to ridiculous.
A love story, typical impossible love:
[Beautiful, pure-hearted heroine?] Check!
[Cold, obsessed male lead?] Check!
[A jealous noble villainess, fated to die horribly?] ...Double Check!.
And guess who that villainess is?
Yup. Me.
{whoopoo!} *in exhaustion*
Extel — the heroine — had golden-brown eyes, hair like sun, and feelings so simple you could summerize her in a tweet. No kidding.
Abandoned as a child, bought and sold her whole life, yet still "pure" because the author said so.
Raymond Dauthar — the prince. Tall, brooding, and allergic to communication.
They meet at an underground auction {romantic, I know.}, he "buys" her freedom, and they fall in love in a palace full of vultures.
Meanwhile, Iris Hampton-the villainess-a powerful mage from a noble house-me, marries Raymond in a political deal to secure the throne.
No love. No affection. They weren't even friends. Just ambition and cold pride.
Until she finds out about Extel.
She loses her mind, and in her rage ... She tries to kill Extel.
And that's how I die. Again.
At least this time, fate gave me a heads up.
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I slapped my cheeks "Nope. Nope. No way."
"Is something wrong, Lady Iris?" my tutor, the gorgeous Sir Karlot, asks from across the room.
He's handsome in a modest way—brown hair, brown eyes, calm smile. The kind of guy you'd actually want to grade your essays. If I was still 23, he would totally have a shot.
"Sorry," I mutter, slumping. "Just... thinking."
He raises a brow. "Should we postpone the test?, perhaps."
"No, I'm fine," I said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just nervous."
His gaze lingers a moment too long. " Your eyes are golden-brown, again."
"Yeah?" I chuckle softly. "How long have they been that color?"
"Since I arrived. Forty minutes."
"Right."
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My eyes — my curse.
They change color with according to emotion.
[Blue, when I'm sad.]
[Yellow, when I'm happy.]
[Red, when I'm.... in love, or just love.]
[Green when I'm calm.]
[Orange when I'm more on edge.]
{Right now? Definitelyorange.}
Because meeting the Prince, marks the beginning of my end.
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"What's on your mind?" Karlot asks, sitting across from me.
"The Imperial Memorial," I say flatly. "My parents want me to attend... and meet His Highness."
"And that's a bad thing?" he asked curious.
I stare him dead in the eye. "Let's just say I have a bad feeling about men who buy women at underground auctions."
He blinks. "...Pardon?"
"Nothing," I say quickly, waving it off. "Just talking to myself."
{Step one to survival, avoid the plot at all costs. Step two, stay far, far away from Prince Raymond Dauthar. And Step three, don't die. Obviously.}
"Lazy or not," I whisper, "I'm not dying for someone else's love story."