Morning crept in faster than I'd anticipated, and soon Zilda and the maids were bustling around to get me ready. A swift splash of water to wake my face, a neat braid twisted at my nape, and a simple linen dress, far less ornate than the gowns I'd grown used to since waking in this body.
Today was different, though for the first time, I'd be joining the count and Norielle's brothers for breakfast.
I walked down the hallway, my shoes making soft taps on the floor. Sunlight was coming through the windows, and I could smell bread and coffee from ahead. I reached the dining room door, hesitated for just a second, then pulled it open.
Three pairs of eyes met mine. First, Count Nazar Graham, Norielle's father, with visible wrinkles and soft yet piercing blue eyes. Then Neoven, the firstborn, and last, Leopold, the youngest child.
"Good morning, Father."
My voice came out steadier than I felt, and I offered the small, gentle smile I'd seen Norielle give him in memories. I gave a slight nod not too casual, not too stiff hoping it matched the way she'd always greeted him.
Count Nazar didn't say a word back, just a simple nod.
I moved over quietly, my steps barely making a sound. I slid into the chair on the count's left, and my eyes immediately found Neoven, he was sitting across from me, on the count's right. Beside Neoven, Leopold was already in his seat, and the two of them made for a striking sight.
Neoven and Leopold both looked nearly identical to their father, same sharp jawline, same set posture, same unreadable air. The only difference was in their eyes Neoven's were the green that matched mine, while Leopold's held the count's soft blue.
A maid placed my plate down with a soft thud, warm bread, eggs, fruit. We started eating.
The silence in the room was thick enough to cut. And then it hit me, this was so familiar. Exactly like how my family had our dinners. No talks, no laughter, just eating, each lost in our own thoughts.
This kind of set-up always suffocate me.
We ate in that heavy silence for what felt like hours, the only sounds the soft clink of silverware and the crunch of bread.
Then Neoven set his fork down with deliberate care. "I've finished, Father," he said, his voice flat and even.
Neoven stood up in one fluid motion, gave a slight nod to the count, no glance my way and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him. A few minutes later, Leopold followed. He placed his napkin neatly on the table.
"Finished, Father," he said, his tone just as reserved as Neoven's. He, too, nodded at the count before leaving, his steps quiet on the floor.
The count ate for a moment longer, then set down his own utensils. Without a word, he stood up and headed for the door, no acknowledgment of me, no comment on the meal. I sat there alone, the half-eaten food on my plate suddenly tasting like ash, the silence now even heavier than before.
With a dull ache in my chest, I kept eating, forcing every bite down, draining every last drop from my glass. When I was done, I folded the napkin neatly and laid it on the table, just as I'd seen the brothers do. Then I stood up and walked out of the room. As I passed, the maids lowered their heads in deference, their eyes on the floor and I couldn't help but feel just as invisible as they looked.
Painfully, Norielle and I lived the exact same life.
***
I found Zilda in the hallway and asked her to take me to the library. She nodded quietly and led the way, her steps light on the marble floor as we walked down a corridor I only seen in this world.
When she pushed open the door, I drew in a sharp breath. Rows of dark wooden shelves climbed to a vaulted ceiling, stuffed with leather-bound books that smelled of old paper and dried ink. A tall window streamed afternoon light across a worn oak table, and dust motes danced in the golden glow. Zilda stood by the door, her head bowed, giving me space.
I sank into the velvet armchair in the corner, it felt worn in, as if someone had sat here a hundred times before. I wandered the aisles and pulled out a handful of books, all about the history of this world. Learning about it might help me. I also brought the reports about my business that the butler had been handling for me, stacking them beside the books on the table.
Then I began reading.
The pages told of the Empire of Roswal, founded thousands of years ago by three great wanderers. The first ruler, it said, was the child of a great golden dragon and a wealthy wanderer lady, a being of both earth and sky, who united the scattered lands under one banner.
I read on, learning how the dragon's blood had passed through the royal line for generations granting them strange gifts, the ability to speak to beasts, to sense danger from miles away, to call forth small flames from their palms. But the pages grew dimmer as the centuries wore on, the dragon blood thinned, and the gifts faded, leaving only stories and faded crests on royal seals.
For a moment, I was shocked to learn that those with royal blood possessed gifts, but it made sense that they faded over time. Still, in the story, the male lead, the crown prince, had a curse, not a gift.
I continued reading, flipping through pages of royal lineages and ancient wars, but there was no mention of the curse. Frustrated, I reached for a book about the history of House Graham, a long-established family that had served the crown for centuries, but found nothing interesting. Just lists of marriages, land grants, and titles. I set it aside with a sigh.
A creaking sound caught my attention, and Zilda entered the library pushing a small trolley of refreshments. She walked towards me, her steps soft, and set it down beside the table. On it, a pot of hot tea that smelled of chamomile, a plate of small almond cakes, and a bowl of fresh berries.
"My lady," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I thought you might be hungry from reading."
"Thank you," I replied.
She poured me a tea, the steam rose in delicate spirals, carrying the gentle, calming scent of chamomile that made my shoulders relax just a little.
Then I turned to the business reports. Scanning the pages, I understood. Norielle ran a cafe, and it was doing well so well, it already had a branch in Ezelet.
I want to see it. The café that the villainess is running.
I looked up at Zilda, my voice firmer than it had been all morning. "Zilda, tell the butler to prepare a carriage. I want to visit the cafe."
Her eyes widened just a fraction, surprise flitting across her face like a shadow before she bowed her head, her hands folding neatly in front of her.
"I apologize, my lady," she said, her voice quiet but clear. "But his lordship gave strict instructions not to let you leave the manor today."
My brow furrowed in confusion, a small crease forming between my eyes. "Why is that?" I asked, the question coming out sharper than I'd meant it to.
"He said the Grand Duke of Valios and his young lord might arrive at any moment," she explained, her gaze fixed on the floor, "And you must be here to greet them when they do."
I forgot above it. It was today, the agreed dinner with them.
Vague fragments from the book flickered in my mind, sharp and unsettling. This scene had been from Evander's point of view once. Valois man whose name made even nobles tremble, and Evander was not far. The dinner tonight was set to happen right after he killed a distant relative on a whim, his temper flaring so hot he'd struck the man down without a second thought.
And I remembered, too, how hostile Norielle had been towards him that night. How she'd spoken sharply, her green eyes flashing with defiance, refusing to bow to his arrogance. How that single act of pride had pushed him so close to eliminating House Graham entirely. His hand hovering over the edge of destruction, ready to sweep away everything the Grahams had built over centuries, all because one woman had dared to stand up to him.
A cold shiver ran down my spine, and the warm chamomile tea in my cup suddenly felt like ice. The quiet peace of the library vanished in an instant, replaced by a tight knot of fear in my stomach. Tonight. I had to face the man who'd almost destroyed this house, my betrothed. And I had to do it without repeating Norielle's mistake.
"Are you alright, my lady?" Zilda, who seemed to have noticed the color drain from my face, asked.
I sighed, the sound heavy and raw. "No..." I murmured, but it was loud enough to cut through the library's sudden stillness. "Why do I even have to marry him?" I asked.
She knew I didn't know the reason. I'd woken up in Norielle's body with gaps in my memories, and the count had never spoken of it. Still, she hesitated, her eyes darting to the door once more before she stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Because the his lordship is trying to save this house, my lady."
The words hit me harder than I expected. I leaned forward, my heart beating faster.
"Save it from what?" I asked.
"From ruin," she said, her gaze finally meeting mine, and I could see the sadness in her eyes sadness for the family she'd served her whole life. "House Graham's lands have been failing for years. The harvests are poor, the mines are running dry. We're drowning in debt, and the only one with the power and gold to pull us out… is the Grand Duke of Valios."
I sat back, stunned. All this time, I'd thought Norielle's defiance was just pride, anger at being forced into a marriage she hated. But it was more than that. It was anger at being a pawn, traded to a monster to keep her family from falling apart.
But... we're poor? In debts? But Norielle's business was growing, stable. Was that money not enough?
"And house Valios agreed?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "To marry me, why?"
Zilda nodded, her shoulders slumping a little. "They have their own reasons, they say. Something about House Graham's connection to the old line, something the duke wants. But yes, my lady. It's a bargain. A marriage for a new start. For us all."
"And you knew all of this?" I asked, confusion washing over me.
"You told me yourself, my lady,"she replied, her voice soft with sympathy.